The Noblest of Victories: The 237th Hunger Games
by Of Myths and Men
Summary: The Hunger Games are a long-standing tradition, and so new Head Gamemaker Hydna Dagworth needs to pull out all of the stops. Known for her ability to create magnificent mutts, Hydna has a lot of tricks under her sleeve to make sure that these Games are the best and most entertaining Games yet. SYOT CLOSED.
1. 00 - Prologue

**00 - Prologue**

* * *

Hydna Dagworth (23).  
Head Gamemaker.

* * *

_Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet - Aristotle._

Hydna taps her fingers against the glass top of her desk, staring down at the mutt blueprints in front of her. What was once her one talent, responsible catapulting her through the ranks, seems so foreign to her now that everything is under her control. Designing mutts was a lot easier when somebody else was reviewing her designs and critiquing them, not when she was expected to do it herself. Because to her, they're already perfect, but she knows that there are flaws somewhere. Something that needs to be changed in order to make them better. She just can't find what it is.

She could send them off to the president for approval; that's technically the final stage. But receiving criticism from the head gamemaker is completely different from that of the president. Thankfully, in the past, there'd been minimal criticism from him, but she knows that that's only because of the changes she'd made after the several attempts to have them approved. What's to say there's not something glaringly wrong with these designs? Something the president will scoff at because she should know better than to include it? Something that will make her doubt appointing her?

After all, it's not too late to just get rid of her and appoint someone else. It's happened midway through the Games before.

Pushing the blueprints aside, Hydna lets out a groan. She doesn't know how she's going to do this. Her head drops into her hands as a wave of regret crashes over her; she never should have accepted the role of head gamemaker. She's not knowledgeable enough, not confident enough. Being a regular gamemaker had been her dream come true, working alongside other talented individuals to bring entertainment to the screens of the Capitol citizens, but Head Gamemaker? Hydna isn't right for it.

Granted, it wasn't as if declining the role would be any better. President Eira made sure that taking the role wasn't really negotiable, but maybe never being able to work on another Games would be good for her. She could do without the stress, and besides, she still has her medical degree to put to use. If it hadn't been for her dad's friend making note of the sketches around her room and putting in a good word for her with his friend who was already a gamemaker, then Hydna would probably be working in a hospital somewhere.

At this point in time, she wishes that she was. She's not sure that she wants to be a household name anymore. Her mutts last year, particularly several versions of the Loch Ness Monster stationed in the various bodies of water in the arena, had seen her rise through the ranks. The other gamemakers envied her, calling her lucky, telling her that they wished they were her. Hydna is inclined to agree: she wishes that it was one of them in her position now. Maybe they would do better.

God. If she'd have known what letting her dad's friend in her room to hang some curtains would start, she'd have hired someone instead.

She sits up straight at that thought, gathering the blueprints hurriedly. She knows just the person to present them to.

"Where are you going?" Her secretary asks as Hydna enters the lobby. The words stop the woman in her tracks, not having thought about the fact that she's not supposed to leave the building whilst she's on duty.

"To go and get some food," she declares after a few seconds. "The canteen is out of egg and watercress sandwiches, and you know how I like to have one for lunch every day," she pauses. "And maybe I'll stop at the doughnut shop on fourth on my way back. Your favourite is the maple glazed, right?"

Hydna doesn't wait for a response, pushing open the door and leaving the building. She'll have to be quick now, and she'll have to bring back donuts, but that's not the end of the world. All she has to do is drop off the blueprints, and that shouldn't take too long. It's maybe a twenty-minute walk to where she wants to go, and she can hit the grocery store on her way back to grab her sandwich before ordering the doughnuts.

She reaches the apartment block that she wants, ringing the doorbell and tapping her foot whilst she waits to be let in. The buzzer sounds and she opens the door, taking the steps two at a time until she reaches apartment 579. She knocks on the door three times in rapid succession, and she's waiting for no longer than ten seconds before the door is opened and she's pulled into a warm hug.

"Hi to you too, Dad," she grins as they pull apart. The pride in his eyes as he looks at her almost makes her melt. Okay. Maybe being Head Gamemaker was worth something.

"What do I owe the pleasure to?" He asks, gesturing her in. His apartment has changed a lot since she was last here, and she smiles when she spots a framed copy of her medical degree hanging on one of the walls, next to a signed copy of the blueprints of one of last years' mutts.

"I'm here to ask a favour of you," she says, pulling the blueprints out of her handbag. "I'm supposed to have these submitted by next week, but I'm not sure what I need to improve and since I'm Head Gamemaker, I don't have anyone higher to ask. So, I was wondering if you could look over them for me? I just need to check that there's nothing wrong with them, and that they're feasible to build. Could you maybe do that? I mean, if you're busy then don't worry about it but—"

"Anything for you, H," he nods, kissing her on the forehead as he takes the blueprints from her. "You're doing us all proud, you know that right?"

Hydna feels the heat rising to her cheeks, and she shrugs. "I try my best."

"Now don't let me stop you from doing your work," he says. "Head back, and I'll have them reviewed and ready by the time that you're finished. If you want to come over for dinner tonight, I'll go through it all with you, but if you're too busy then I'll just leave them with your receptionist."

"No, it's fine," Hydna says. "Dinner tonight sounds great. It's been a while."

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Hydna submits the mutts for approval the next day, and a week later she's called in to see the president. She's practically vibrating as she waits in the waiting room, unsure of whether this is something she needs to be worried about or not. Even after asking around, she's unsure of what this means. The president doesn't just call meetings with Head Gamemakers. Not unless they're in trouble.

When she's finally called in, Hydna sends a quick prayer to the heavens even though she's not particularly religious. She figures that she needs any help that she can get if this meeting goes the way she thinks it will. Maybe last week she wouldn't have blinked an eye about getting fired, but since getting over the roadblock with the mutts she thinks that she's grown in the role. The arena is coming along nicely, the production of the mutts should start soon... it's all going right.

"These designs are extraordinary," President Eira says after Hydna sits down. Hydna doesn't think that she's ever been so relieved in her life. "How did you come up with these?"

Hydna shrugs. There's no real process; the ideas just pop into her head and then she starts sketching. "A lot of hard work," she answers eventually. "I'm glad you like them, Mrs. President."

"Someone else must have helped you," the woman's gaze flits up from the blueprints she was holding, studying Hydna's face. "I mean you couldn't have done this alone, right? It's clear they've been reviewed, which I'm thankful for; some Head Gamemakers just jump the gun and submit them once they're done, but I can tell that isn't the case here. Who was it? Another gamemaker? I want to give them some sort of credit. A promotion or something... the Capitol are going to _love _these."

"My father helped me, ma'am," Hydna says, but she immediately regrets it when she sees the look on the president's face. She doesn't look happy, and Hydna might've just shot herself in the foot.

"You mean that someone who wasn't on the team saw these?" President Eira says after a minute. "That's a serious breach, Miss Dagworth."

"I'm so sorry—"

"But," she holds up a hand, cutting off Hydna's apology. "I suppose I can't be mad when the end result is this," she leans across the table. "You're one of the most promising individuals I've seen, Miss Dagworth, and it would be a shame to have to let you go because you asked for help from your own father."

"It won't happen again—"

"I know it won't," President Eira says. Hydna feels the same nervousness she was feeling in the waiting room settle back into her bones. She has no idea what's going on; a moment ago the president was saying that she wasn't mad, and now here she was about to fire Hydna. Or, at least, that's what it's sounding like. "You can't show them to someone who's not on the team if they're on the team, can you?"

Hydna frowns, not quite catching on to what's being suggested. Because of course, if someone's on the team then showing them isn't a breach. It's only when she sees President Eira staring at her, waiting for a reaction, that she realises what was just said. But it seems too good to be true.

"You mean..." Hydna frowns. "You mean that you're going to hire my father to join the team?" The president nods. "That—he'd love that. Thank you so much!"

President Eira smiles, and Hydna knows that with any other president this would have turned out differently. It's hard to believe that the president in front of her sends 24 kids to their death every year, but Hydna supposes that she's just as, if not more, complicit in that.

"Now, if you don't mind Miss Dagworth, I have an important phone call to make."

As she leaves the office, Hydna is almost vibrating again. But it's not with nervousness this time. Instead, she's too excited for her own good.

* * *

**I hope that you enjoyed the introduction to Hydna Dagworth, our Head Gamemaker for these Games. **

**She's named after Hydna of Scione, a Greek woman who was taught to dive by her father and ended up saving Salamis with him during a Persian invasion. In the middle of the night during a storm, the two of them swam through the Persian ships and cut their moorings meaning that most of the ships crashed and sank, then giving the Greek navy more time to prepare. It's pretty damn cool, and since I knew I wanted to use a father-daughter duo, it worked pretty well. **

**Anyway, enough rambling. The rules and the form will be up on my profile. I will not be accepting guest submissions, sorry! **

**Another thing I would like to mention is that I am aware that my writing is not the best; I am only fourteen and therefore am growing and learning every day. Please try and keep criticism to yourself unless it is constructive. Thank you!**


	2. 01 - Character Introductions I

**01 - Character Introductions I**

* * *

Lorraine "Blue" Tencel (11).  
District Eight.  
_Four months before the reaping._

* * *

_The greatest gift our parents ever gave us was each other - Unknown_

Blue skids into the alleyway, throwing a glance over her shoulder to make sure that the peacekeepers are still a fair distance away. She pulls herself onto the top of the dumpsters, having to jump up so that she can grip the edge of the roof. Her feet scramble for purchase for a few seconds, but she eventually manages to ground herself and has to use all of her strength to push herself up, crouching behind the chimney pot just as the peacekeepers pile into the alley.

Trying to quieten her breathing, Blue grins as she hears the confusion in their voices as they try and figure out where she's gone. She can hear them moving the dumpster to look behind it—as if she'd be that dumb—and they even flip the lid and look inside. All of this for a bit of bread left out on one of the market stalls? It wasn't like anyone else was going to eat it, but the peacekeepers are getting more and more draconian as the days go by, so Blue can't say that she's really surprised.

Eventually, they come to the conclusion that they must have turned down the wrong alley, and that the more they stand around, the further and further she's getting from them. It couldn't be farther from the truth and she has to stifle a giggle as they leave, stretching her legs out in front of her as she sits down, back against the chimney, and pulls the bread roll that got her into this predicament in the first place, splitting it in half and pocketing one half for her sister. She wolfs down her half, though. It's the first thing that she's eaten all day, and even though it's stale it was totally worth the peacekeeper chase.

It barely makes a dent in her hunger, but she's so used to being hungry that she can't remember the last time she was actually full. After a while, she hops down from the roof back onto the dumpster and then back into the alley. She takes a moment to rifle through the dumpster, hoping that she can find something of use, but she leaves the alley empty-handed.

A light drizzle is starting to fall as she scarpers back to her home. She doesn't know if Pup will be back yet, but, hopefully, she's had a better time than Blue. Things haven't been great lately, and although they managed to survive winter, Blue is doubtful that they'll be able to make it to the end of the year with the small morsels they eat.

Their 'home' is a small shed behind the shell of a burned house. Untouched by the fire, and somewhat out of the way, it was the perfect place to settle down in for Blue and Pup. The only problem that they've had is small leaks in the roof but considering they have years of experience of living on the streets without so much as a blanket, that's not an issue for them. Maybe it would be for one of those prissy factory owner's kids, but Blue and Pup can get by on whatever they're given.

Pup isn't in when Blue pushes open the door, so she settles down in the corner and tries to resist the urge to eat Pup's half of the bread roll. She doesn't, but it comes close by the time that Pup returns.

"We need to go! Now!" Pup yells, lunging forward and pulling Blue up. "Grab your stuff quickly and run! They know we're here and we'll be executed if they get us."

Blue doesn't need to be told that it's peacekeepers that Pup is talking about. She jumps to her feet, grabs her backpack, and takes off running. Pup is behind her, urging her on as they sprint through the deserted streets, not unlike Blue earlier.

They twist and turn through the narrow streets, attempting to shake off the peacekeepers. Blue isn't completely sure what's happening, but she runs anyway and tries not to fall behind too much when her legs start to burn and she struggles to catch her breath. She's never heard Pup speak with such urgency before, and for once in her life, Blue is actually scared. She knows that she and her sister are well known to the peacekeepers, and have been for years, but she'd never expect them to hunt them down to execute them. All for petty thievery and trying to stay alive?

"We need to go beyond the fence," Pup pants as they crouch in an alleyway, having lost the peacekeepers a while ago. "We can't stay here, Blue. I don't know what's out there, but it's better than staying here and letting the Capitol win."

"Pup you're talking shit," Blue whispers, shaking her head. "We step foot outside District Eight and the Capitol will kill us. I prefer my chances outrunning some peacekeepers rather than—"

"That's the thing; they're not just going to let us go because we outran them," Pup grabs Blue's upper arm, her grip tight. "We need to get out of here. Walk to Ten or something, I don't know. But I prefer _our _chances out in some woods."

"You can't be serious—"

"Lorraine, listen to me!" Pup yells, and the use of Blue's full name is enough to make her fall silent. She hasn't been called that in years. They had been using their nicknames since they left the orphanage, decided by a street urchin they'd met in the first couple of days (to this day, Blue doesn't know why he picked the names that he did, but they've definitely grown into them); Lorraine was the five year old scared of her own shadow, not the feisty almost twelve year old Blue was now. "When you were born, I made Mom a promise. I said that I'd look after you if anything happened to her, and I did. In the orphanage, on the streets... I'm not about to break that promise now. We _have_ to go, and I don't care whether you want to or not. It's for our own good."

Blue doesn't know how to respond to that, so she doesn't. Pup stands, pulling Blue behind her and they sneak through the streets, avoiding any peacekeepers that they see. By the time they reach the fence, Blue feels as if she's about to throw up. There's a sense of dread looming over her, and she knows as soon as they step foot out of the district, something bad is going to happen. But any time she tries to voice these concerns to Pup, she's shut down.

"Are you ready?" Pup asks, taking a deep breath as they reach the section of the fence that's ripped. It's been that way since Blue can remember, and the fence has never been electrified like it should be either, but the fear of what's beyond is enough to keep the citizens of Eight in the district. Blue's heard all sorts of rumours; hunters, peacekeepers, hovercrafts...

"No," she answers eventually, swallowing thickly. "Pup, please. We don't need to do this—"

Pup doesn't listen, though, pushing herself through the gap. There's a pause as she stands up. Nothing happens.

Until she starts to walk forwards, and a hovercraft appears out of nowhere. Blue's blood runs cold as she stares at her sister through the fence. Pup is looking up at the hovercraft in some sort of trance, and despite Blue's pleading, she doesn't try and get back through the fence.

"_Gwendolyn!_" Blue screaming Pup's real name seems to break her out of the trance, and she looks towards Blue with a look of pure terror on her face. "Hurry up! Please!"

Pup starts to run, making it to the fence in a few strides, but just before she drops to the ground to wriggle through, a net falls and entangles her. Blue reaches a hand through the hole, grabbing for her sister as she's carried upward. But all she reaches is thin air. Pup's screams are cut off once she's inside the hovercraft, and Blue staggers away from the fence, sobbing as the hovercraft seemingly melts into the sky.

If only Pup had listened! Blue falls to her knees, crying into the mud. Her sister, the only family member left that gives a shit about Blue, is gone. She doesn't have anywhere to go. The peacekeepers are after her, baying for her blood.

Where did everything go so wrong?

* * *

Athena Platinum (17).  
District One.  
_Six months before the reaping._

* * *

_If four things are followed - having a great aim, acquiring knowledge, hard work, and perseverance - then anything can be achieved - A. P. J. Abdul Kalam_

An alarm blaring throughout the barracks wakes Athena from sleep. Around her, people start shuffling and she forces herself out of bed almost as soon as her eyes open, grabbing her shower caddy before the other girls can beat her to the shower cubicles. She needs to look her best for when she gets chosen to represent One in the Games later. Last night, she'd had to listen to the other girls speculating about who it would be. Her name hadn't come up once, but she was sure that it would be her.

And why wouldn't it? She's been acing her classes lately, and the physical tests. She was in the age bracket, too, and whilst she might not be one of the richer students at the Academy, she is sure as hell one of the best. Athena hadn't had to buy her way in; she was scouted out, given a full ride without her dad having to pay a penny. It was more than most of the rich kids could say, here on Mommy and Daddy's money which was the only thing keeping them from getting kicked out.

The warm water on her skin is soothing and she can feel her muscles relaxing. She'd trained extra hard yesterday, a final nod to the trainers that she should be the one representing their district. It must have made some sort of impact, because one of the trainers rewarded her with a pass to go home for this weekend as long as she stayed for the announcement. So that means at least something, and it means that they were watching her. And that she can celebrate with her father once she's been chosen.

Getting to visit her dad, the occasional times she gets given a pass or in the weeks that the Games are on, is the only thing that helps to keep her somewhat sane. The Academy is, really, no place to grow up. Void of affection and filled only with thinly-veiled hatred and violence, encouraged by the trainers. It's no wonder that the Victors never know what to do with themselves after the Games; they're not taught to live for anything else.

Athena knows that she won't fare in the district unless she becomes a victor, so she has two years to prove herself. You'd expect that they'd have a break in their training, a few hours every day, to focus on something other than trying to disembowel another person, but they don't. Athena will admit that she's not booksmart, but she makes up for it with her talent with a chakram.

She takes her time showering, listening to the clamour of the girls outside and the fights over who gets the shower cubicle once it's vacated. She gets dressed, brushes through her hair, gathers up her things and eventually leaves when there's no other reason to stall. Pushing through the throng of girls, Athena makes her way back to her room and kicks her shower caddy underneath her bed, taking the time to make her bed now instead of after breakfast. Saturday is inspection day, and Athena needs to play by the rules if she wants to see her dad. Even the slightest misstep can see the pass revoked. Not that Athena's ever broken a rule anyway—she's very proud of that fact—but she's not about to start now.

The mess hall is loud when Athena enters, pulling her damp hair into a small ponytail. She grabs her food and takes her place at the table with the other lower-income recruits. She's not friends with any of them, but she's not friends with anyone else here either. But the group of them are outcasts, even though the majority of tributes are picked from them. Within her first few weeks, she'd come to the conclusion that they were just jealous even if they did get it easier; money gets you acknowledged in the academy, but Athena thinks it says something when even with the extra training and one on one sessions, half of them don't even hold a candle to Athena and the lower-income recruits.

After breakfast, it's time for the bunk inspections—which Athena passes, thankfully—and then there's an hour of training before the girls' announcement. Athena lodges chakram after chakram into dummies for that one hour, trying to improve her aim even though it's already pretty accurate. They're given a small break before the announcement, and Athena can feel the excitement building up. Entering the Games is good, and coming back as Victor is even better. She'll be able to prove to everyone else at the academy that she shouldn't be written off just because her father is a lowly mechanic; she's just as good as anyone here, or, in most cases—better.

All of the girls in the Academy file into a hall. Somewhere else, the boys are doing the same. Athena isn't too interested in who else will be picked, but she supposes that she'll find out when she returns on Monday. A few of the younger girls are play fighting as they wait for the head trainers to file in. At some point, those friendships will be severed as they compete to be on top.

"Ladies," The head trainer clears her throat, making the hall fall silent. "As you know by now, District One has the pleasure of sending two tributes into the arena every year. These tributes are handpicked by us, taking into account a lot of factors. The girl that we pick to represent us this year will have the honour of fighting against twenty-three others, and will hopefully return with the title of Victor."

The room is hanging onto the trainer's every word and behind her, she hears the whispers of excited eighteen-year-olds. It's too bad that they'll have missed their shot.

"The tribute who will be representing us in the 237th Hunger Games is..." Athena rolls her eyes at the pause, ready to just receive the applause she deserves and leave to visit her dad. "Athena Platinum!"

She knew it.

There's scattered applause around the room, but a lot of confusion. Holding her head up high, Athena flashes an uncharacteristic smile but it's quickly wiped off her face when she's shoved from behind and almost goes toppling down the bleachers. Righting herself, she whirls around to see an older girl red in the face, struggling against the arms of those restraining her.

"This was supposed to be _my _year!" The girls seethes. Athena just stares at her, finding it almost comical. "I'm eighteen; I have no other chances to get picked, and that's beside the fact that I'm way more talented than you. Do you know how much money my father—"

"Talent trumps money," Athena shrugs. "I guess this just proves that."

The girl writhes, trying to break out of the grip the others have her in. By this point, the trainers have noticed what's happening and Athena can hear them calling for order. She turns around, not willing to lose her weekend pass over this, and listens to the girl's protests as the trainers drag her away. She doesn't feel bad; the girl just obviously doesn't have what it takes. It's not Athena's fault that she's better.

She ignores the other girls trying to talk to her, whether it's to congratulate her or to let her know that they deserved it more. It's not a secret that Athena lacks in social skills, and how is she supposed to react when people question her abilities? The first thing her mind goes to is violence, but the rules say otherwise. She just has to convince herself that the other girls' opinions don't matter, which is true anyway. They won't be doubting her when she wins, that's for sure. And if she has to mentor any of them next year? Well, she'll be as unhelpful as she possibly can be.

The only person's opinion that truly matters is her dad's. She rushes to gather her things and get out, wanting to spend as much time with him as possible. He'd given everything for her, even though he didn't really know how to raise a child, thrown straight into the deep end with no support, and she owes it to him to allow her to accept the offer to join the Academy.

She'll make him proud, she knows it. And when she's back they can move into Victor's Village and he'll never have to pull long shifts again. He can make up for all the time they spent apart when she lived with him.

It almost sounds too good to be true.

God. Athena wants the Games to be over with already.

* * *

Strada Wells (13).  
District Three.  
_Two months before the reaping._

* * *

_Someday you'll realise the damage you've caused - Unknown._

Sneaking out of school is fairly easy, especially at lunchtime when everyone's just milling around and the teachers are distracted. Strada simply walks out, and nobody calls after her, nobody threatens detention. She's just out of there. Of course, her father will be alerted that she's not there in the afternoon, but that's what she wants. He's only had one proper conversation with her in the last two months, and that was an argument because she didn't want his new girlfriend and her son moving in, clearly replacements for her mom and brother who'd died three months ago.

A month wasn't enough time, she'd argued, it was stupid and she wasn't ever going to think of Gigi and Spark as family. _Ever. _And he had yelled back that as the mayor of Three he had an image to uphold, one as a family man; it was what his campaign was based upon.

_"How can I be a family man if I don't have a family, Strada?!"_

_"You have me! I'm your family!"_

_"You're not enough!"_

She winces as the slamming of a door echoes through her mind, pulling her back to reality. Anger fills her at reliving that conversation, accompanied by the sting that the last words left.

Since then it had been one-word sentences to each other, silent meals and avoiding eye contact. Strada doesn't want it to carry on. She misses her dad like she misses her mom and brother. But he'll have to talk to her properly about skipping school; she's the mayor's kid and like it or not, she has an image to uphold. And maybe when he does he'll see what he's missing. That his daughter is there, and she's worth more than any girlfriend and her kid he can find. He'll see that she needs him, that she's still grieving and all she wants is a hug.

But she has around two hours before he gets home, and nothing to do until then. She can't go home either, because Gigi is insistent on homeschooling Spark and she'd rather die than spend time alone with them. So instead, she heads to the outskirts where a ring of grass surrounds the district. She pulls up a bunch of wildflowers before heading down to the graveyard, zigzagging through the headstones until she finds her Mom's and Isambard's.

She hasn't been here in a while, or not since her dad forbade it—apparently, it wasn't good for her to keep visiting—but since she's rebelling today, she might as well. In fact, she's been meaning to for weeks. Just because her dad doesn't want to face it doesn't mean that she shouldn't. Her mom and Isambard deserve better than to be replaced and forgotten.

Strada lays down the flowers, sitting on the path in front of the grave. She talks, then, about everything. About her dad, about Gigi and Spark, about school, about this rebellious phase that was starting and how she wouldn't do it unless she absolutely had to. She knows that it's immature, she knows that her mom would be disappointed in her, but she's tried everything else. Her dad just won't engage with her.

But threatening his image? Ruining the perfect family image he was trying to create? Well, he surely can't have that. It's almost foolproof.

Almost because there's the chance that she could get in a lot of trouble for this and not only by her dad. If she starts skipping regularly, her grades will drop, if she starts loitering around the district when she should be in school then the peacekeepers will get involved, and, if she does actually damage her dad's image, there'll be hell to pay. The elections are coming up soon, after all, and if her dad doesn't get re-elected because of her behaviour then she doesn't know what she's going to do.

Checking her watch, Strada gets up, dusting herself off. Her dad will be home soon, preferring to work the afternoon from home, and so he'll for sure be wanting to talk to her. But there's a dread building in the pit of her stomach, as if what she's doing is a bit too far.

She turns into her street at the same time her dad does, and the pair make eye contact from the opposite ends. She stops walking, and he speeds up. Along with the dread, there's another feeling, something positive; she's finally getting attention from him even if he looks like he's on a warpath.

His grip on her upper arm is tight as he drags her inside, slamming the door behind him. Gigi and Sparks appear from the dining room as her dad glares down at her, a tense silence stretching on and on.

"Do you want to explain?!" He demands, pulling her through to the living room where she sits on one of the armchairs and he sits in the opposite one.

"Science was boring," Strada shrugs. As much as she just wants to come clean, tell him that she _just wants to talk_, she has to play along. At least for a little while. "So I left."

Gigi gasps, stepping forward into the room. "Strada," she says, and Strada's skin crawls with the condescending tone she uses for her name. "What made you think that was acceptable?"

"What made you think you were part of this conversa—?"

"Strada!"

"What?" Strada asks, slumping in her chair, arms crossed. "She's not welcome in this conversation. This is between you and me."

Gigi looks absolutely horrified at Strada's attitude, and it's all Strada can do not to start laughing there and then. Her dad looks conflicted, and Strada hopes that this is the moment where he ushers Gigi out and they have a heart-to-heart. It's all that she wants; just some quality time with her own dad. She doesn't think that that's too much to ask for. But her dad seems to have other plans, ushering for Gigi to take a seat on the sofa.

"As your parent Gigi has the right to be a part of this conversation," he says and Strada has to resist the urge to scream.

"She's _not _my parent," Strada mutters, her eyes downcast. "And she never will be."

"Strada, I honestly don't know what has gotten into you," her dad starts softly, leaning forward. This was it. This was what she'd wanted all along, but Gigi and her stupid smug face is ruining it all. "I know it's been tough the past few months, but acting out isn't how you deal with it."

"Yeah?" Strada snaps, glaring at the pair of them. "What is? Finding any woman with a teenage son and letting them move in as soon as possible? Ignoring your daughter because she doesn't want to pretend to be happy? Throwing yourself into your work? How am I supposed to deal with it Dad? Since you're obviously _so great_ at it, I would love some pointers."

"Don't talk to me like—"

"You and Mom were married for over twenty years. How can you just chuck that away as soon as she dies?!" Tears are burning her eyes, both out of anger and grief. "And Isambard was a good kid, and you're just replacing him with some random woman's son? How is that fair to him?"

"You know that I have an image to—"

"Oh yeah, because nothing says family like having a woman and her son you've known for a month move in less than three months after your own wife and son die," She stands up, shaking with rage at this point. "Fuck you, Dad. I hope you never get re-elected."

She storms out at that, unable to hold back her sobs anymore. Turning to run to her room she comes face to face with Spark, who just looks at her.

"I would never speak to my mom like th—" he starts, but he stops talking once she shoves him square in the chest. She hates it, but the look on his face as his arms windmill to try and keep his balance is somewhat satisfying.

She slams her door shut and locks it, throwing herself onto her bed.

That didn't go the way that she wanted it to at all. In fact, it has only made things worse. She buries her face in her pillow and screams, ignoring the knocks on her door and voices in the hallway asking her to open up.

She wishes that it was her instead of her mom or brother.

Everyone could just move on. Hell, maybe they'd adopt another teenage girl.

Maybe there'd still be a family left, not the ruins of one that used to be.

* * *

**Okay, so I may have gotten way too excited about my first three submissions and wrote their introductions as soon as I was sent them. Too eager? Probably...**

**Anyway, I hope that you enjoyed them! The way that this will be working is that I will do eight chapters with three character introductions each in no particular order, mainly just in the order that I receive them (however if there are some that are harder, and therefore take more time to write, this may not be the case). There will be a reaping recap at the end of them before the train rides.**

**Thank you for the submissions that I have received so far, and also for the lovely comments left on the last chapter. It really means a lot!**

**Chapter question: which of these three were your favourite? Who do you sympathise with the most?**


	3. 02 - Character Introductions II

**02 - Character Introductions II**

**TW: Child abuse in Valentine's POV.**

* * *

Hennessy Guevro (17).  
District Four.  
_Three months before the reaping._

* * *

_At some point, I don't want to have any obligation. And just chill out - Charles Barkley._

It has been a long week waiting for the Academy to get back to him, but finally, Hennessy has the confirmation that he is going to be Four's selected volunteer in this year's Games. He was disappointed three months ago when it was announced that he was the third pick, but due to an injury and the hesitance of the second pick—his best friend Ripley—he's going into the Games anyway. He knows that his parents are going to be absolutely thrilled when he tells them, both of them have always wanted one of their children to enter the Games and come home Victor, so he wastes no time in thanking the trainers and leaving the Academy.

They won't be home just yet, but he can break the news to his sisters at least. Although Aberdeen doesn't live with them anymore, she'd been over this morning to visit, so he hopes that she's still there. They don't see eye to eye on a lot of things, or even see each other since she moved out, but she'll at least be happy for him about this. And Leilani will be over the moon; as his personal trainer, if he's going into the Games then it's clear that she's doing something right.

Then he has to find a way to tell his friend Jonah, and then his girlfriend Nerissa, and also his boss down at the tattoo parlour—he's not going to be able to do many shifts whilst he's in the arena, after all—but he doesn't need to worry about that just yet. He has time. And of course Ripley already knows, so that means he doesn't have to tell him.

If he could be bothered, he could do a fancy reveal, but that takes time and effort so he doesn't stop at the marketplace on the way home. He'll just have to make his finale really dramatic to make up for it.

Thankfully, Aberdeen is still there when he gets home, and he gathers both of his sisters into the living room.

"Guess who Four's male tribute is going to be?" He asks, and he's greeted by blank stares.

"Ermin Zale," Leilani says eventually. "Hennessy, you told us this the other day."

"But what if I told you it wasn't him anymore?"

"Your friend Ripley, then," Aberdeen frowns. "He was the second choice, right?"

"He was," Hennessy nods. "But what if I told you that he had second thoughts?"

"Then it's you?" Leilani says. It takes a moment for it to dawn, but when she clicks on she jumps up, pumping a fist into the air. She hugs him, pulling away rather quickly. She makes eye contact. "You'd better not be kidding," she says. "Are you serious?"

"As serious as I've ever been in my life," Hennessy grins, and Leilani pulls him into another hug.

"Do Mom and Dad know?" Aberdeen asks, joining the hug. Hennessy shakes his head. "When are you going to tell them?

"At dinner I think," Hennessy shrugs. "I'm not going to make a big deal about it. It's just a thing that's happening. The big deal stuff can wait until I come back home, after the Victory Tour."

Leilani grins, clapping him on the back once more before they pull away from the hug. "You know you're going to have to actually listen to Dad and train a lot more, right?"

Hennessy nods. He hasn't really thought about it, but he supposes she's right. He'll be the first one to admit that he hasn't put the full amount of work into his training that he maybe should have. But he has a ton of time-3 months to be exact—and he's sure that he'll be ready by the time it comes to the Games. He's going to have to be.

Leilani somehow coaxes him into their home gym, and they get in about two hours of training before Hennessy calls it quits and heads upstairs to take a shower and nap. He doesn't wake up until his mom knocks on his door to wake him up for dinner. He has to fight the urge to stay in bed just a little bit longer, heading downstairs after a few minutes of debating whether or not to just fall asleep and eat later.

But if he doesn't tell them now, then they'll hear from someone else and then he'll never hear the end of how he couldn't be bothered to tell his own parents that he would be going into the Games.

He takes his seat, engaging in the small talk around the dinner table. Aberdeen has gone back home, but Leilani eyes him from her spot beside him, seemingly more excited about the news than he is. He considers letting her tell them; she'll be a lot more dynamic than he will, but he decides against it in the end. He clears his throat halfway through the meal, taking a sip of his water before he speaks.

"Mom, Dad, I have to tell you something," he says, looking towards Leilani who is beaming. "About—"

"Did you get fired?"

"No."

"Did Nerrissa break up with you?"

"_No, _Dad, just listen," Hennessy sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Um. So, you know your dream of having a Victor kid?" They both nod. "Well it's going to be happening. Ripley doesn't feel confident enough to volunteer this year, so he offered to switch places and hopefully volunteer next year, so... surprise?"

There's a beat of silence that makes Hennessy almost uneasy, but then his mom is smiling and his dad is clapping, and it feels so good. Between his idleness and his tattoos things haven't always gone smoothly between him and his parents, but at this moment he can see the pride in their eyes, and the genuine delight as they laugh and his mom starts to cry and Leilani wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close.

He can only imagine what it'll be like when he returns home from that Victory Tour, living with them in Victor's Village where he can lounge all day in an immaculate living room and open his own tattoo parlour in the district center. The life he dreamed about will be a reality in a couple of months, and it feels almost surreal.

"You're going to have to step up your training, Hennessy," his father says, once everyone has calmed down a little. Leilani giggles.

"Knew you were going to tell him that," she says.

"I know, Dad," Hennessy nods. "And I will. I get one-on-one training now up until the Games, and the trainers have said that they can fit them around my shifts at the parlour, too."

His dad nods but doesn't say anything more. Hennessy knows what he's thinking; training hard and working will be too much for him, and maybe he's right, but for once Hennessy will just have to suck it up and come home tired every day. He doesn't only have his parents and sister to impress, nor his girlfriend and friends, but also the whole district. Things aren't bad in Four by any means, and Hennessy knows that, but there are still people that could do with the extra food his win will bring.

"Don't you think that you should quit for now? Go back once you've won the Games?" His dad says eventually, over dessert. Hennessy looks towards Leilani, sighing slightly. "Hennessy, you understand just how big of an undertaking being the volunteer is, right—?"

"Of course I do," Hennessy says. "But they've already said that they'd be willing to work around it, and I'm sure that I can work something out with my boss. Take later shifts or something. I'll be fine. Besides, once I win I'm not going back there. I'm opening my own."

"How could I forget?" His dad huffs, and Hennessy almost snaps back but Leilani stands up, gathering up the empty bowls of ice cream.

"If you two are going to bicker like children about tattoos again, I'd rather listen to it from the kitchen," she states. "Mom, are you coming?"

"I'll come," Hennessy says, gathering the glasses. "I'm not arguing right now."

He and Leilani head out into the kitchen, washing up the mess from dinner. They head upstairs, side by side, and Leilani taps him on the back before he heads into his room.

"You've got to show him you can do both," she says, pausing outside his door. "Tattoos and training."

"I will," Hennessy says, nodding. "I have a shift tomorrow at nine, but do you want to wake up early and train a little?"

"That's what I'm talking about," Leilani says, punching him playfully. "Of course I will."

"See you then," he calls after her, before collapsing into his bed.

He's oddly motivated right now and, whilst that might not last for very long, he's determined to make the most out of it.

* * *

Samilah "Sam" Adler (15).  
District Five  
_A month before the reaping._

* * *

_Everything that looks too perfect is too perfect to be perfect ~ Dejan Stojanovic._

Sam's father's private dinners are such bullshit, she thinks as she glares into the mirror as her mother combs through her pixie cut. She wastes so many hours at these things, forced to mingle with people more important than she'll ever be, with more money than she'll ever have; more money than they actually need. She'd rather be in the kitchen, helping prepare the food than having to mingle, but her father has forbidden it.

"How would it look if I hosted this dinner without my children there?" He'd asked her after letting her question hang in the air.

"Who gives a shit?" she'd mumbled under her breath, too quiet for him to actually hear. Then, louder. "So that's a no?"

"Of course it is. Now leave. I have work to do."

So she'd left, storming up the stairs to her bedroom where she'd remained until her mother came to fetch her to get ready. She'd made a little bit of a fuss, but it hadn't gotten her anywhere but in front of her mother's mirror in the bedroom, arms crossed over her chest and a frown on her face as she thinks about the hell she's going to be put through for the next five or so hours.

Noella, the mayor's daughter and Sam's supposed 'best friend', is going to be there which makes the matter even worse. She's fine with her father having his own political friends, but having to be friends with someone because of his image? It's one of the worst things ever. Noella is reserved, sure, which makes hanging out with her a tiny bit bearable, but she's so naive that it hurts. Having to explain her sarcastic comments makes them not as funny.

"Put your arms by your sides," her mother says and Sam huffs as she does as she's told. Her mother moves to her front, tugging and pulling at the dress until it sits the way she wants it. "Smile and you'll look perfect."

That only makes Sam scowl even more. Her mother tuts, and ushers her out of the room and downstairs as their father calls their names. Sam hopes that she never turns out like her mother—obedient and quiet and controlled by a man—she doesn't think that she could handle that without exploding. She'd, honestly, rather die.

Sam takes her place next to Saoirse, her older sister who is twenty-two and still not allowed to leave home, she shoots her a quick eye roll whilst their father isn't looking and Saoirse flashes a quick middle finger to their father's back. Saxon shifts uncomfortably behind them.

"Right," Their father turns back to them. "You know the rules—"

"Yeah," Saoirse cuts him off. "Sam and I can't do anything that hints to the others that we're actual human beings with feelings, thoughts, and opinions. Saxon can show emotions, 'cause he's a boy, but if he—"

"That's enough," their father's bellowing voice cuts off Saoirse's tirade. "You're all to behave and that's final. This could result in a huge opportunity for us to open a second power plant, and so I need you to take it seriously. Saoirse, if someone talks to you, you make polite conversation, okay? Samilah," she cringes at her full name, narrowing her eyes at him, "You stay with Noella for the night. Saxon, you're with me."

And after a few minutes, their father tweaking things to make them look 'more presentable', they're arranged by the staircase where they're told to stay and smile whilst their father welcomes his guests.

It gets harder and harder for Sam to keep smiling as more and more rich people filter into the foyer. Eventually, Sam's given permission to move but only to join Noella at the side of the room. The other girl isn't very good at hiding her displeasure as Sam approaches, but she doesn't take it to heart. The feeling is definitely mutual.

"Reaping Day is coming up," Sam says in an effort to make conversation. "Have you bought your dress yet?"

"Not yet," Noella shakes her head. "Daddy says we'll go shopping soon, though. I have my name in three times this year. It's kind of scary."

"Other kids have their names in way more times so you'll be fine," Sam says, staring across the room at the small groups people that are forming. Saoirse is hovering in a corner by herself and Sam wishes she could join her. "Like the kids that take tesserae."

Noella lets out an airy laugh. "Don't be silly," she says, causing Sam to frown. "Nobody actually takes that stuff. Not in Five anyway. Food isn't that expensive. If my Daddy can feed us on his wages, then why can't someone who works at the factory feed their family with their wages? If they take tesserae then they're just being lazy and using their children to try and get free food without actually working for it.

Sam has to try not to facepalm. If she does, she'll probably break her nose with the amount of force that comment will force her to do it with. When she first met Noella she thought that the girl was trying to be funny when she says shit like this, but Sam's learned that it's not true. Noella truly believes and means every word that she says. It's honestly scary.

"Yeah, sure," she murmurs, unable to bring herself to say anything else. At least it gives her something to mock with Saoirse later. Compared to the majority of the rich kids in this room, Sam, Saoirse, and Saxon were scarily normal. Maybe they would be if they didn't have such a control freak for a father.

She and Noelle make small talk, leaning with their backs against the wall. They smile for the photographers, and try not to let any sign of displeasure show on their faces. Neither one of them is quite sure why their friendship is so enforced by their fathers, or why pictures of them inevitably end up in the newspapers the day after the fancy dinners, but the rich seem to eat it up.

Sam will never forget the time that a photographer for one of those Capitol magazines that update the Capitolites on what's going on in the districts was caught trying to take pictures of them through the school fence a few years ago. They were just trying to play hopscotch in peace. It had creeped Sam out for ages, but her father had insisted that it was a good thing.

Somehow, Sam makes it to dinner. She purposefully loses Noella in the crowd filtering into the dining room, and takes a seat between her brother and sister who are relegated to the end of the table furthest from their father as the youngest. It makes her feel almost sick to watch her father interacting with the men, no sign of the man he was before the doors had opened. It was as if he was two people; Caron Adler the father, and Caron Adler the socialite. It's not nice to prefer the latter.

But the dinner, thankfully, goes smoothly and quickly. Noella heads home with her mother shortly after, and Sam is able to join her sister and laugh about how the girl is so naive that she doesn't think people actually take tesserae.

They're excused an hour or so after dinner by their father, so that the "adults can talk", and it's one of the few times that they're ever heard him tell them to sleep well.

Sam is completely exhausted by the time she's locked in her room, dress tossed on the floor, make up wiped off, and pyjamas on. If she has to go to another dinner ever in her life it'll be way too soon. But, even as she's still drifting off, she can't help but laugh at Noella's stupid comment once more.

At least the dinners are some sort of entertainment, she guesses as she finally falls asleep.

* * *

Valentine Niagara (18).  
District Two.  
_Two weeks before the reaping._

* * *

_The greater the power the more dangerous the abuse ~ Edmund Burke._

Valentine breathes in. Breathes out. Breathes in. Breathes out. Tries to blink away the tears in her eyes.

Her stomach hurts with the punch that her father threw a few minutes ago, before storming out of the room and leaving her alone. She isn't even sure what she's done to deserve it, but she must have done _something. _Or maybe he had a bad day at work... there has to be some excuse. There always is when he's like this.

She pulls herself up from the floor, wanting to be anywhere but here. She leaves through the window, dropping quietly to the ground so that she's not caught. Her father hasn't locked her in the broom cupboard for a while, but she's not sure what it is that will cause him to snap again. Valentine doesn't know if she can handle another six hours in there, terrified out of her wits. Sometimes she deserves it, sure, like when she talks back or she underperforms at the Academy, but it doesn't make it any less scary.

And maybe an eighteen year old Career shouldn't be afraid of the dark, but it's not something that Valentine can help.

It's starting to rain when she reaches the wooded outskirts, cautious of the humming of the electric fence and the face that peacekeepers could be patrolling. As long as she can get high enough in a tree she should be safe, though. If not then she can expect hell when she gets home.

Being albino doesn't help the matter; her pale skin and almost white-blonde hair make her instantly recognisable as Kerry's daughter, and the peacekeepers will go scrambling back to her father as soon as they spot her. Nothing like sucking up to the head peacekeeper, after all.

Climbing the tree calms her down a little as she hides herself amongst the leaves. It's what she used to do when she was younger and her father would go into one of his rages. She'd flee the house, scale buildings, trees, whatever she could do to make sure that he wouldn't follow her. Wouldn't get her. The pain in her stomach is starting to ebb as she sits there, listening to the wind rustle the leaves.

She has two more weeks, that's all, until she's on the train to the Capitol. In the city that she's so desperately wanted to visit be a citizen of since she was a little girl after the visits with her father. She's always wanted to live as they do, and considering it's somewhat of a trend to have pale skin there, she's seen escorts with white powder packed on their faces so thickly it was almost unreal, it's somewhere she'd fit in. Or at least somewhere where she wouldn't be considered such a freak at least.

And when she's Victor she'll be able to go more and more. She hasn't been in a while; her father says it's more important for her to focus on her training than it is for her to accompany him. Besides, she likes the time alone and she's known that she's going to volunteer for ages, so it wasn't as if she was never going to go back. Of course, Valentine will never be able to live there; she'll always be a district kid to them, but that's fine as long as she gets to visit. She's sure that she will. If not, then she'll just have to start accompanying her father again.

A noise below her startles out of her thoughts, and she glances through the branches trying to figure out what's there. Between the leaves she catches a few glimpses of a few squirrels, followed by a pair of white boots. When she finally tears her vision away, she comes eye to eye with a squirrel on the branch opposite her and has to stifle a scream as not to alert the peacekeeper. The squirrel watches her for a few seconds, before it scampers off as free as the wind.

Valentine watches him, wishing that she could be as carefree as he is. But she can't; she has training to do, duties to fulfil and she wouldn't be Two's chosen volunteer if she was a squirrel, would she? She'd be shot by a hunter and sold in the market place within a few weeks. Although maybe she'd be better off that way.

No. She can't think like that.

Her thoughts go to the Academy. She needs to train more. She went this morning, threw a few knives and shot a few targets, but like her father shouted earlier; she needs to train more. The trainers like her, say that she's as vicious and as violent as they come, and she is when she's focused and in that mentality. And it's all she's ever really known; hard punches and harsh words.

She checks her watch. Enough time has passed that the peacekeeper who strolled by earlier is gone, and if she's quick then she can make it to the Academy for an extra hour or so of training.

Besides, it gives her somewhat of an excuse if her father has even noticed that she's gone yet. He can't be mad at her for doing as he said, can he? After all, she's only taking his advice. Acting on his criticisms. Maybe he'll finally smile at her.

She's quick as she climbs down the tree and heads back towards the district. She twists and turns through the streets, quick strides towards the Academy so people's eyes can't focus on her for too long before she's out of their sight. Valentine's nearly there when she realises that she's not wearing clothes suitable for training and doesn't have a towel with her to dry off after her shower, but it'll be fine. She'll just borrow.

Valentine heads into the back room, where they keep gym kits and things for the boarders at the Academy. She gets dressed, heading into the gym, and does her best to stay focused and perfect her aim with her bow and knives. As it is, she's pretty good, but as it's been pointed out to her before—things are hard in the Games. The mechanical dummies don't move as terrified humans do. Although maybe it'd be quite funny to see a tribute moving in a straight line left to right as she prepares to throw a knife. Would she get a laugh out of that? Maybe.

The other careers would, probably, Valentine's watched enough Games to know what sort of camaraderie they have between them. She doesn't think that she'll be too good at it, but she'll give it her best shot. She just has to remind herself that no one is there to make friends. They're only going to stick with her because they have to for the sake of tradition. She'll be the last one standing, anyhow. So even if they're the only people that understand her, not put off by her violence like the others, she doesn't need their friendship.

Valentine finishes up when instructed to by a trainer closing the gym. She heads to the shower quickly, towels off and chucks it in the laundry basket and then gets changed into her clothes again. She pulls her hair into a ponytail and leaves, heading back home. Hopefully, her father should be in a better mood, especially because she's been training.

Still, she doesn't dare to enter through the front door, reaching the house just as it's starting to get dark. She approaches her window, climbing up the gutter pipe to reach it, and slides it open, pushing herself through the gap into the room.

Outside, she hadn't clocked that it was weird her light was on—it had been off when she'd left—nor when she was entering, but now that she's in and her father is in the doorway with his arms cross she's realising her mistake. He isn't in a better mood, she can tell by her body language, and her hands are out in front of her as she backs herself into the wall when he steps into the room.

"I can explain," she says, hating the trembling in her voice. "I was training. Like you asked me to—"

She's cut off by pain exploding across her scalp as her father reaches behind her head and seizes her ponytail. She already knows where she's going as she's being dragged, pleading for him to let go.

The door to the broom closet opens and she's shoved in.

The light from the hallway disappears when the door slams shut, and her father's gruff voice tells her the more he hears her crying the longer she'll be in there.

Her chest is tight as she tries to quieten her sobs.

_Two more weeks,_ she thinks, _just two more weeks and then you'll be free. _

* * *

**And there's our second set of tributes!**

**Sorry that this took so long, a family emergency and a broken laptop don't make for quick updates. Everything is sorted now, though, so hopefully the next update will be quicker!**

**I am attempting to make a blog, but it's turning out harder than I expected. In the meantime, I am working on Pinterest boards for the tributes which you can find here: pinterest . co . uk/OfMythsandMen/ch-the-noblest-of-victories-tributes — just delete the spaces.**

**So far I only have those that I have written for with pins, but I'm hoping to change that in the next couple of days. I attempted spotify playlists, but it turns out I don't listen to enough music to make even one playlist let alone, eventually, twenty-four.**

**Thank you for your kind reviews! I'll see you soon with another update.**


	4. 03 - Character Introductions III

**03** **— Character Introductions III**

* * *

Bijou Agate (12).  
District Twelve.  
_Three months before the reaping._

* * *

_True love is selfless. It is prepared to sacrifice ~ Sadhu Vaswani._

"How is your leg, Daddy?" Bijou asks quietly, peering around the doorframe. He shifts in his bed, careful not to wake Bijou's baby brother sleeping beside him. His face contorts in pain for just a second, and Bijou knows what the answer is going to be before he even says it.

"It's fine, Beej," he lies, and Bijou narrows her eyes.

"No it's not," she says almost instantly, moving into the room. Her daddy motions to Benjy, and she lowers her voice—she loves her baby brother with all of her heart, but listening to him scream isn't fun. "You can't lie to me, Daddy, I see it on your face."

"It hurts a little, that's all," he says. "But soon enough I'll be able to go back to work and maybe then we won't be so hungry, huh?"

"Um, I came here to talk to you about that," she grimaces, and she sees his face drop. "We have no more food left. I think Brieuc ate the last bread roll before he went to work today. I don't know if he knew we were saving it for Benjy's breakfast today but—"

"Oh fu—"

"But, Daddy, I'm twelve now," she continues. "And the Justice Building opens in two hours, so I can head down there and—"

"Bijou Elena Agate, no," her daddy sits up, shaking his head. "No. You're not doing that, and that's final. Brieuc didn't have to, and I promised your momma that—"

"Daddy, Momma's dead," Bijou has to blink back tears, her voice cracking on the last word. She hates to say it, and she hates how saying it makes her daddy wince, but it's true. "She's gone and we're starving and Brieuc barely gets paid enough to buy ingredients for two loaves of bread and, like, a handful of berries or something. It's not your fault you can't work right now, but that doesn't change the fact that we have no money. I don't want to do it as much as you don't want me to do it, but I have to. Or else none of use will even make it 'til you can go back to work again."

The room falls silent again, and she can see her daddy thinking it over. She gets his hesitance, but Benjy hasn't eaten since lunchtime yesterday, and Bijou hasn't had anything for at least a day. Brieuc has been going off to his gruelling twelve hour shifts with an empty stomach more often than not, and Bijou doesn't remember when the last time she saw her daddy eat something other than a few bites of someone's bread here and there when they force him to.

At least putting her name down for tesserae means that they will have _something _in the cupboards. Bijou makes bread all the time—it's far cheaper to buy the ingredients than to buy it from the baker—and she's confident that she can make some tesserae rolls for everyone. They won't be as nice as her usual bread, but she supposes that beggars can't be choosers.

And she doesn't even care that Brieuc didn't have to take out tesserae. Things were different when he was eligible for the reaping, and she can't be bitter about that. The fact is, if she doesn't do this then they probably won't even reach the reaping. Brieuc doesn't bring home enough to feed them, and his employer is patchy at best when it comes to actually paying him, and if she's honest, Bijou doesn't think her daddy will be going back to work any time soon.

"Wait until Brieuc comes home," he says finally. "He can help you carry it back."

"Yes sir," Bijou nods, her stomach rumbling at the thought of food. He flops back against the pillows, and Bijou takes the hint and leaves.

It's a long while before Brieuc comes home, but as soon as he does Bijou forces him back out of the house and into the cold rain. He doesn't ask why, and Bijou suspects that he already knows. He'd come home empty handed again, claiming that the man who employed him was nowhere to be seen when he went to collect his wages.

"Maybe you should quit," Bijou says, kicking a stone from the path. "I'm sure you can work in the mines, or something. They're always hiring."

"It's not that simple, BJ," he shrugs. "The mines are a death sentence. The last resort. They're not safe, I mean look at Dad's leg. That happened down there because the Capitol don't care about safety."

"How is it the Capitol's fault? Daddy said that the ceiling collapsed and his leg got tra—"

"Because it's supposed to be supported," Brieuc explains. "With decent materials to keep it falling. But the material the Capitol gave to us? They're not decent. They're cheap. And at any moment all of those tunnels the miners have dug down there could collapse. Dad was lucky he just broke his leg."

"Oh."

"Yeah," Brieuc nods. "Not that I'm trying to scare you or anything, but I'd rather just stay put where I am. Maybe they're behind on wages, but I'll get paid them eventually and all things considered, I'd prefer to be pulling heavy carts around for hours on end than down in those mines."

"Me too."

The Justice Building comes into view, and the two of them enter. Brieuc doesn't look happy as Bijou goes through the process of applying, but it's not like they have any other options. Standing on her tiptoes, Bijou can see through the glass panel on the storeroom door as the peacekeeper heads in. It's piled from floor to ceiling with jars of oil, sacks of grain, and Bijou licks her lips in excitement for the bread she'll be making tonight.

It takes a few trips for the peacekeeper to bring their rations out, but the pair split them between their backpacks, and a wagon they'd found in front of their neighbour's house and asked to borrow. Brieuc pulls the wagon as Bijou struggles with the weight of her backpack.

"Are you okay BJ?"

"I'm fine," Bijou nods through gritted teeth. "It's just a bit heavy, that's all, but I'll be fine."

Brieuc smiles, shaking his head. "You get that from Dad."

"Get what from Dad?"

"That," Brieuc repeats. "The whole 'I'm fine' thing when you're not. Here, take some out and put it in the wagon."

Eventually, they manage to get home. Benjy is wailing about being hungry and Bijou gets straight on to making the bread as Brieuc going to relieve their daddy by taking Benjy outside to distract him by drawing faces in the mud by the stream. She's so hungry that it hurts, and so impatient, that as soon as the rolls are done she has to hold herself back from just eating them and burning her mouth.

She forces herself to wait until Brieuc returns and starts on a watery lentil soup. Once he's done, Bijou puts away all of the rations and it's nice to see food in the cupboards again. So nice that she barely thinks about the extra times her name will be in the bowl this year. It crosses her mind once or twice as she's kneading the dough and watching Brieuc, but she doesn't feel as bad as she thought she would about it. It's a necessary evil.

Brieuc helps their dad through to the kitchen once everything is ready, and they say grace before they eat. Bijou has never said it with so much sincerity before, and she truly means it. But she doesn't make it more than ten seconds afterwards before digging into the food.

Despite being made from tesserae ingredients, it's the best food that Bijou has ever tasted. She, Benjy, Brieuc and her daddy go to bed full that night. Happy. Grateful.

Three months from now, she might not be too happy. She might not be grateful. But Daddy tells her not to worry about that, and she doesn't really. Those who don't take tesserae are a minority in Twelve, and she knows people from school with over ten siblings and numerous extra entries. She'll be just fine.

They all will now that they're fed.

* * *

Lexus "Lex" Zhang (15).  
District Six.  
_The morning of the reaping._

* * *

_Rebellion never goes without consequences ~ Andy Stanley._

"Can you feel it?" Jane asks, the pair of them sat outside their tent clutching mess tins with meagre scoops of plain porridge in them.

"The fear?" Lex raises his eyebrows. "Yeah. Of course I can."

Reaping Day is always strange; it's like the whole district shuts down in the morning. The railways don't run in the morning, the marketplace is empty, and there's nobody on the streets. After the reaping they always try to get on with life. The shops open, trains whir by, but nothing gets rid of the feeling that hangs over the district knowing that two of their kids are whizzing towards the Capitol at breakneck speed towards what is almost certainly their untimely deaths. It has been a while since Six has had a victor, and that doesn't help the dread hanging over the district.

But the fear and the gloom is almost suffocating in the town square, which is why Lex, Jane, and the rest of those at their small camp behind the trainyards have decided not to go. There were protests at first, when the plan was revealed, but after being reassured that the peacekeepers probably don't even know who they are, let alone that they're not at the reaping, people relaxed. Lex isn't too sure about it; if they do get caught, then their lives are on the line, but Jane's doing it and he's not about to abandon her to go and stand in a packed square and listen to kids sob.

"It's not even light yet," Jane murmurs around a mouthful of her breakfast. "I mean most people are still asleep, but you can still _feel _it."

"It's what the Capitol wants," Lex shrugs. "But whatever. We'd better be quick if we want to hit some houses before people get up."

Luckily, Reaping Day affords them a little more time. Aside from children awoken by nightmares, most people use the morning of work as an excuse for a lie in. There's no such thing to Lex and Jane, though, who's jobs start when most are asleep. Or at least, not if they don't want to get caught. It's easy to sneak around a house when people are sleeping, but not so much when they're wide awake.

Once they've finished their food, the pair of them leave their camp to head over to the East Side of the district. It's not the richest side, but definitely not the poorest, and that's just what they need. Pawning off the things they find in these houses is a lot easier. Fewer questions and less chance of being caught out.

"I'll keep watch," Jane whispers as they pick their house and hide in the alleyway to the side, scouting for potential entrances. "Do you think you could fit through the gap in that window?"

"Easily," Lex nods.

Jane boosts him, and he grips onto the windowsill, pulling himself up before he slides through the window and into their targets' bathroom. He's careful not to knock anything off the ledge, but shoves a bottle of half—empty shampoo into his backpack. From there, he tiptoes out into the hallway.

He's never quite gotten used to being in someone else's bedroom whilst they're asleep, but he manages to leave with a few necklaces and some loose change that were on top of the dresser. But he doesn't spend too long upstairs, because the most important room is downstairs.

Lex enters the kitchen quickly, placing his backpack on their wooden table before he roots through the cabinets. It's insane how much food some people have, tins upon tins of beans and cans of vegetables. He takes as much as he can carry, tinned fruit, pasta, and cans of soup alike. When his backpack is full enough, he leaves, making his way back upstairs where he chucks his backpack down to Jane and then jumps down himself.

"Good haul?" Jane asks, raising an eyebrow at his full backpack.

"Enough for a week at least," he nods, shouldering the backpack when his friend hands it to him. "Maybe even two if we're careful."

But they don't stop there, even though it would be okay to. Jane still has a backpack to fill, and it's not as if their arms are useless. The more they can get and the least amount of times that they have to do this is better. Their haul from last time has laster them three weeks, and that's what they're aiming for. It means that they don't have to worry about where their next meal is coming from every day. They can save the money that they get from selling the valuables for if there's a period where they can't steal anything.

Their method has meant that the two of them haven't had to take tesserae, and that means something. Their names are in less times that they really should be considering their position, and Lex counts that as a win.

He assumes lookout duty for Jane, although she's in and out so quickly that he doesn't really need to be. Her backpack is full, too, and Lex is relieved that the two of them have had good luck this morning. Sometimes they leave empty—handed, and it's no good for anyone.

One more trip, where he grabs a few more tins of food, and they're heading back to their camp. The district is starting to awake, and they have to dart into alleyways or hide behind carts to avoid peacekeepers, but they make it back unscathed. They dump the food in their tent, and spend the next thirty minutes or so sorting it out. They have a good stock of food and a few things to sell at the marketplace once everyone's finished up at the reaping.

Outside they can hear the others getting up and moving around, a small amount of chatter around the campfire, but the two of them stay put. It's not that they don't like the others—they'd be long gone if they didn't—but both of them enjoy each other's company more than that of the others. It's the same gossip passed around almost every day. Although Lex is willing to bet that today it's something about the peacekeepers somehow know about their plan and are going to force them to the reaping, or something to that effect.

He's proved right when he hears those words through the flap of the tent, left to listen in to the conversation when Jane decides that she wants to take a nap.

He's not prepared for them to be true, though.

But after the reaping horn sounds, the unmistakable voices of peacekeepers fill their camp, demanding them all out of their tents at once. Reluctantly, Jane and Lex emerge, holding their hands up as the peacekeepers' guns point towards them. They join the small crowd forming and are too stunned to do anything but follow the peacekeepers when they announce that they _will _be attending the reaping.

"Someone snitched," Jane whispers, barely audible, as they're escorted towards the square. "They had to. The peacekeepers aren't this competent."

"I know they aren't," Lex whispers back. He just can't figure out who; everyone has the same frightened look on their face, and he can't think of anyone who'd even side with the peacekeepers, let alone tell them their plans. And it wasn't as if they had any new people living with them—everyone there has been living in the camp for at least six months now. Eating with them, drinking with them...

So why would they betray them? Lex doesn't understand.

And sure enough, the square is filled to the brim. The adults in the camp are separated from the children, being made to stand behind the rope with the peacekeepers surrounding them. Lex's stomach drops.

"Jane," He hisses as they fall in line to get their fingers pricked. "They're going to arrest us afterwards. Look. They're not letting the adults out of their sight, and they'll do that with us too."

A few kids have already been signed in, and sure enough there's an extra peacekeeper stationed at the sections they're in.

"Fuck," Jane huffs as they get their fingers pricked and head through. "We'll figure something out." She says before they're separated and she's forced into the fourteen year old girls' section, taking her place amongst some snivelling kids.

Lex feels his lip curl as the escort take to the stage. He's not really paying attention, trying to come up with some plan to get him and Jane out of there once the reaping is over.

God. This sucks.

* * *

Izan Peralta (18).  
District Nine.  
_A week before the reaping._

* * *

_I may be a twin but I'm one of a kind ~ Jerry Smith._

It's coming up to the six year anniversary of his brother's death, and Izan doesn't know how to feel. It was his own name that rang out during their first reaping, but Arzan who took his place. He's come to terms with it, he thinks, but it doesn't make it hurt any less. And it doesn't help that he has to live as Arzan, either. Because it's getting harder and harder and, honestly, he's not even sure how he does it.

His mom knows, his dad knows. Lola and Olivet know. But that's it. His older brother doesn't know and neither does his boyfriend, and maybe the two of them will never know. Aldon will freak out, Izan is sure of it, and he'll tell everyone he knows. News like that will spread fast. And Arnaldo can never know; he won't like Izan otherwise. It was Arzan that he had the crush on, and "Arzan" that he confessed it to. "Arzan" that told him he felt the same way, and who he's been dating for almost a year now. His parents think he should tell him, Lola and Olivet too, but Izan can't bring himself to.

In regards to their relationship, everything is just fine as it is, and it doesn't need to be ruined. Not yet.

He tears his gaze away from the ceiling as there's a knock at the front door. He knows who it is before his mom calls his name, and rushes to get changed out of his pyjamas and downstairs to where his friends are waiting for him. Izan had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he'd forgotten that he had somewhere to be.

"Meet us at the bookstore," Lola mocks him as they walk down the street. "I won't be late this time."

Izan shakes his head, smiling. "I overslept, okay?" He lies. "It happens sometimes."

They head towards the outskirts of town, where they spend the majority of their time together. It's quieter there, and the fields are definitely nicer surroundings than ugly buildings and nosy people.

Their usual spot is in the shade of a large tree, and they flop down. Izan leans against the trunk, pulling his knees to his chest. They fall into a comfortable silence, Lola pulling out whatever philosophy book she was currently reading, and Olivet pulling up blades of grass, splitting them in half before chucking them away and grabbing a new one.

"Have you told Arnaldo yet?" Lola asks eventually, dog—earing her page.

"No!" Izan frowns. "Stop asking. I'm not going to tell him for a long while yet. How am I supposed to?"

"How about, hey, you know I had a twin brother? Well, what if I _am _that twin brother?" Olivet mocks. "I mean, he'll be a little confused at first, but he'll catch on eventually. It'll give you enough time to get away from him."

"Oh you're so funny, Olivet," Izan rolls his eyes. He chucks a small stone at his friend, but the other boy dodges it quickly. "Besides, if I tell him, what's going to stop him from telling everyone?"

"What's stopping _us _from telling everyone?" Lola gestures to her and Olivet. "Being your friend. Being a _decent person. _If he loves you, then he won't care if you're Arzan or Izan."

And what she's saying does make sense. He supposes that this far into the relationship, it really shouldn't matter who he is. Just that Arnaldo loves him and he loves Arnaldo. But still, even if it's hypocritical, Izan wouldn't like it if Arnaldo had been lying to him this entire time, and definitely not about something so major. Izan is literally living as someone he's not, and it's not something that he can just drop into a conversation. If he's really going to tell him then he needs to come up with a plan, and, right now, that's way too much effort.

"It's not worth the hassle right now," Izan shakes his head. "We already have enough to worry about with the reaping, and final school exams, and I'm just... not right now, okay?"

"Will you tell him eventually?" Lola asks. "Like when you're seventy and sat beside each other in rocking chairs."

"Maybe on my deathbed," Izan snorts. "Of course I'm going to tell him eventually. Just when eventually is, I don't know. Besides, it's not as if it's hurting him or anything. Not really."

They fall silent again, and Izan can tell that they don't necessarily agree with his statement. Whatever. He's not arguing with them over this. Despite their opinion, it's his choice to make whether or not he tells Arnaldo, and when. The constant pressure from them, and from Izan's parents is a lot to deal with but it doesn't make him want to tell his boyfriend that he isn't actually Arzan even though they seem to think it will.

He bids goodbye to them after an hour or two, heading to the marketplace to pick up a few things before he heads home. A few people there regard him with pitying looks, and he tries not to take notice. They often say that the children chosen to represent Nine in the Games is not only their parents' child, but the child of the whole district and Izan supposes that it's true. Everybody knows about his brother, about how "Izan" had been found three days after the bloodbath by the careers, and maimed badly but not killed. They all watched as he was a mercy kill for the eventual victor, and how his last words had been "live for me".

They were sweet words directed towards his family, everyone thinks, but Izan knows the deeper meaning.

But every time the reapings get closer, baked goods will be delivered to their home, homecooked meals and notes and flowers and it's sweet, it really is, but sometimes it only serves to make Izan feel guiltier. Seeing his name scrawled in those notes, telling them that he would be so proud of them now, make his chest hurt. Because Arzan deserves more than that. He deserves more than to be remembered as Izan.

And hopefully, one day, when Izan can pluck up the courage to tell people, he will and Arzan will be himself once more. It's a nice thought, but it's far away.

He heads home finally, reaching the house just as it starts to rain. There's a small bouquet of flowers on their doorstep, and Izan picks them up and places them with the other ones they'd been receiving. He guesses that it's nice to know people still remember his brother, even if it is just by the wrong name. He's met the family of other tributes, and he knows that it reassures them to know that the district still thinks about their child whether they were second place, or killed by the landmines before the timer even went off.

"Is that more stuff for Izan?" His older brother asks. Izan nods. "I can't believe it's been six years."

"I know right," Izan agrees softly. He can see the guilt written on Aldon's face, and he cuts in quickly before his brother can even open his mouth. "Hey. It's not your fault he died. You were thirteen, of course you didn't volunteer. It's right what they say, you know? He'd be proud of you."

Aldon doesn't say anything as Izan moves forward into the kitchen to help prepare dinner. And he can't help but wonder if it was true for him too, if Arzan was proud of him as well and the way that he'd been living under his name. He's been trying to be good, he's carried on with the work that his brother started. The volunteering at the few charities that Nine has.

He thinks he's doing well, and he has to be doing at least _something _right because nobody has suspected anything over the past six years, but he guesses that it's not really up to him to say.

He just hopes so, with every fibre of his being.

* * *

**And here's our third set of tributes! And, as of yesterday, we have a full tribute list! Thank you!**

**So, these took longer than I wanted them to and I've decided that I'm going to be changing up the structure of the story a little bit. Originally I was going to introduce all of the characters, then have a reaping recap, and then the train rides but I've decided to change it up a little since it's becoming a little tedious to write these introductions. It's nothing against the characters themselves, just me being impatient and wanting to get ahead! **

**I've decided that I'm going to do one introduction per district. So far, we've had D1, D2, D3, D4, D5, D6, D8, D9 and D12, leaving D7, D10 and D11. The next chapter I have planned for Teak, Atkins and Javier to be introduced and after that chapter will be the reaping recap. Then, the tributes who haven't been introduced will have a POV during the train rides. I'll probably do two lots of 6 since that's easier.**

**I hope that's okay with everyone? I just feel like it'll be a lot easier for me to write and a lot better for you guys to read, and hopefully there will be quicker updates too.**

**I'm still working on the blog, so hopefully a link for that will be up soon!**

**Thank you for reading, and thank you for your kind reviews as always!**


	5. 04 - Character Introductions IIII

**04 - Character Introductions IIII**

* * *

Javier Lopez (17).  
District Eleven.  
_Two days before the reaping._

* * *

_Where the battle rages, there the loyalty of the soldier is proved ~ __Martin Luther._

"I saw you take it," Javier says coolly, tightening his grip on the younger boy's wrist. "Put it back now before I call the peacekeepers on you. Stealing is a crime punishable by whipping and I'm sure you don't want that, do you?" The terrified boy shakes his head. "Well, then I suggest you put it back."

"I don't know what you're—"

"The bread roll," Javier snarls. "Don't play dumb with me. I _saw_ you."

The boy reluctantly pulls the aforementioned bread roll from his pocket, holding it out to Javier who still doesn't relinquish his grip.

"Put it back," He demands. The boy looks wide-eyed to where the baker was now manning the stall. "And apologise. Don't even think of running, because I'm watching you."

He finally lets go of the boy's wrist, and the boy slinks over to the baker's stall. Javier can't hear the words that are exchanged, but the bread roll is returned and the baker doesn't look happy. He watches as the boy shrinks away from what Javier assumes to be some harsh words, and when he returns he has tears in his eyes and is shaking. And it's not that Javier enjoys it, but it's what the boy deserves. He was the one not obeying the rules, after all.

"What's your name?" He asks.

"Glenn Parsons, sir."

"Be on your way, Glenn Parsons," Javier says. "And don't let me catch you stealing ever again. Do you know who my father is?"

The boy nods before scarpering off, and Javier heads straight to Eleven's peacekeeper's barracks. It wasn't where he was intending to go today, given that his training was suspended until after Reaping Day due to him not being on duty until afterwards, but he needed to inform Colonel Evans, the head peacekeeper, about what he'd just witnessed. Being shouted at by the baker might've been a punishment for the kid, but did it fit the crime? Absolutely not.

What kind of trainee would Javier be if he just let criminals get away with their crimes? A tongue lashing probably won't prevent little Glenn Parsons from stealing again, but a public whipping might.

Entering the barracks, he's immediately directed to Colonel Evans's office. He knocks on the door and as he's waiting for a response, he hears his name being called from the other end of the corridor. He doesn't even have to look up to know that it's Tony, he can recognise the voice well enough by this point.

"Have you got time to grab some lunch or something?" Tony asks. "Are you in trouble?"

"Me? No. Of course not," Javier shakes his head. "But someone else will be."

"Lunch?" Tony asks again.

"Um, sure. I guess so," Javier nods. "Once I'm done talking to Colonel Evans."

It's then that the door is pulled open, and Javier is beckoned inside. He relates the story back to the head peacekeeper; he'd caught this Glenn Parsons stealing from the baker's stall at the market whilst it was untended and forced him to give the stolen bread back, before coming right to the barracks to report him. As a trainee, obviously he can't call for the boy's whipping himself, so he was hoping that Colonel Evans would do it instead.

And he does, once Javier has stopped speaking.

"I'll have the peacekeepers detain him after the reaping," Colonel Evans says. "It's too close to Reaping Day to have it done now, but once it's over, providing that he's not on his way to the Capitol, then after the reaping shouldn't be a problem. Most people will be in the square anyway."

"I'll be there," Javier gives Colonel Evans a single nod. "That's all I came here for. I'll be on my way now."

Tony is waiting outside when Javier exits, and the pair of them head out into the sun. Tony makes to hold his hand, but Javier quickly pulls it away. He can't seem to get it through to Tony that they're not really a thing anymore—their fling was only supposed to last through last summer—or that they can't be affectionate in public since Javier doesn't want to end up an outcast amongst his Catholic and unaccepting family, but he also can't bring himself to get rid of him.

It'd be pretty easy; a well-worded lie, or a claim of rebellion, and there have been times where Javier has been stood outside of Evans's office ready to turn him in, but always at the last second he has a change of heart. It's something unfamiliar to him, having even turned in his own brother when he was thirteen, but he tries not to let it bother him. Tony is nice enough, and it's not as if he's a threat.

"I'm on duty during the reaping," Tony says. "Not sure how that's supposed to work out but let's hope my name doesn't get called."

"They're not going to reap you," Javier states. "They'll probably have it rigged for some poor kid or something. You wouldn't be on duty if your name was in that bowl. I don't think that the Capitol would be dumb enough to reap a trainee in general, let alone one on duty and in uniform."

"Do you really think they take slips out, then?"

"Of course I do," Javier says. "Anyone who doesn't think so is naive. That's why so many of those thieves get reaped. Everyone else will blame it on them having to take tesserae, but it's really the districts cutting down on those breaking the law. As they should."

"Do you know that for sure?" Tony raises an eyebrow.

"No, but it makes sense if you think about it," Javier shrugs. "Anyway, reaping talk is boring. Anything interesting going on in the barracks?"

"Not really," Tony says. "Anything interesting going on in the mayor's house?"

"Nothing other than meetings," Javier says. "I listen in as best as I can, just in case, but they haven't really been talking about much besides the typical finance and maintenance stuff and Reaping Day right now."

"I could never be mayor if that's what my days consisted of. I don't know how your dad does it," Tony wrinkles his nose as they near the marketplace. "At least being a peacekeeper is interesting. Sure, something might not happen on your patrol but when you get back to the barracks someone will have a story."

"I caught a kid stealing today and I wasn't even on my patrol," Javier laughs. "But if I was, then I'd bet you it'd be the eight hours that the whole district decided to behave themselves."

"Ah, so you were reporting them," Tony says. "I was wondering why you were meeting with Colonel Evans. I was afraid you'd decided to stop the programme or something."

"I'd never," Javier says. "The programme is good for me. Besides, if not a peacekeeper what would I be? Like you said, being the mayor is boring, so I wouldn't want to follow in Dad's footsteps. I've got another year before I turn eighteen, age out of the reapings, and can start training seriously, and it's a year too long."

They weave their way through the crowd in the square, Javier keeping an eye out for anyone not behaving as they should. As he'd proved with Glenn, he doesn't need to be on duty to serve his district, and he's not above using his father's position as leverage. But they make it to the baker's stall without incident. Javier pays for the pastries he and Tony pick out and then they're leaving the marketplace and the crowd behind in favour for the fielded outskirts where they find a bench to sit on.

"When you're a peacekeeper, where would you want to be stationed?" Tony asks. "I'd probably go with Two. It seems like a cool place, and I'd love to know how different it is to Eleven."

"I want to go to the Capitol," Javier says, taking a bite of his pastry. "It's the greatest place in Panem. My father speaks to President Eira quite a lot about the things going on here, so I'm hoping he'll be able to put in a good word for me."

After all, he's thrown so many people under the bus for the Capitol, so surely he's due some sort of reward. Reporting his own brother for treason wasn't an easy thing to do but, in the name of the Capitol, it _had _to be done. So did reporting Glenn, and the friends that he was never able to keep. Hell, he'd have to report Tony if it came down to it.

Some of his old friends might say that he doesn't know what loyalty is, but Javier begs to differ. It's just that his loyalty lies elsewhere to most people's in the districts.

* * *

Teak Martinez (16).  
District Seven.  
_A month before the reapings._

* * *

_A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for ~ John A. Shedd._

Teak takes a deep breath before she darts forward when the woman manning the stall isn't looking. She's not there for more than a few seconds, being quick as not to draw attention to herself, although her giggling friends a few feet away aren't making that easy. All it takes is for the woman to look up and see what they're giggling about and the peacekeepers would be called. But even with the high risk, she pockets a necklace and races back to her friends where she pulls it out, holding it up, shielding the woman's view with her body just in case. Cedar takes it from her, shaking his head slightly.

"I can't believe you actually did it," he says.

"A dare is a dare," she shrugs. "And you were dared to put whatever I stole back, so off you go."

They watch as Cedar makes his way towards the stall, pretending to browse for a bit until the woman becomes distracted by another customer. When they're deep in conversation, Cedar slips the necklace from his pocket and pretends as if he's just picked it up off the table and is examining it when the lady glances his way. When the other customer leaves, Cedar puts the necklace back and has a short exchange with the woman before he strolls over to his friends, grinning proudly.

"There," he says. "I did it."

"What did she say?" Birch asks, shoving her hands in her pockets.

"I was just saying that it was nice but I wasn't interested," Cedar shrugs. "And that I'd be back when I have more money. Which is true. Mom's birthday is coming up, and I'm sure she'd appreciate something from there. I mean, I wasn't lying when I said it was nice."

They hang around the marketplace until it starts to close, when they split up and start haggling with the vendors. It's a tip Poplar told them once; the vendors are so desperate to get rid of the food and produce that they couldn't sell before it goes off that they'll sell at lower rates. And it works. Teak's family are poor, they can't deny that, but with Teak's haggling, a cut of meat a week isn't out of the question anymore.

They leave afterwards, heading back to their houses one by one to drop off what they'd bought. When Teak does, her mom asks her to be back before it gets dark and Teak reluctantly agrees even though she and her friends already have plans to stay out that night. It's fun to hang out in the woods when it's dark, especially when they build campfires, but they can always do it another time.

"You could lie and say you're staying at my house," Poplar suggests as they head into the forest to make the most out of their day. "My parents will cover for us, and we can camp out as long as nobody has work tomorrow."

"That could work," Teak nods. Not that she likes lying to her parents, but it's either that or miss out of the fun. Playing hide and seek after dark, when it's pitch black is great. Teak is honestly surprised that with the amount of stupid shit she and her friends do, none of them have gotten seriously hurt yet. Of course, there's been scrapes and bruises, but how not one of them has broken a bone yet she doesn't know.

And so they turn around, heading back to Teak's house and it takes a little bit of persuading, but she's eventually allowed to 'sleep at Poplar's house.' Successful, they head over to Poplar's house to grab what they need, mainly bits of food and a matchbox and tinder for their fire. Teak carries the blankets, and the four of them set off to the woods where they set up camp nearer the outskirts.

"I'll get started on the fire," Birch says. "Teak, help me gather wood."

They do it by dying light, and it's a challenge to get back to the campsite once the sun goes down but they make it after following the sound of Poplar and Cedar's loud laughter. It takes a few matches, but they finally get the fire going and Teak listens to her friends', no doubt exaggerated, work stories as they cook their food over the flames and finally eat. All four of them work in the tree farms, although they're rarely placed together because of their tendencies to talk too much and work too little. But Teak was with Cedar for most of her shifts this week, and she doesn't remember half of what he's saying actually happening.

Still, she sits quietly and doesn't protest because whether it's true or not; Cedar is a good story teller.

"What about you, Teak?" Poplar asks. "Anything happen on your shifts lately?"

"Nope," Teak shrugs.

"Actually," Cedar says, holding up a finger. "She almost fought Janice the other day."

"Janice as in the mayor's daughter? Janice Humbrid?"

"Yeah," Cedar nods. "She and Mayor Humbrid were visiting the farms, you know, as they do sometimes and I guess Janice said something because next thing I knew I was holding Teak back from launching herself at her."

"I still think you should have let me go at her," Teak mumbles, tossing a handful of dry leaves onto the fire. "She was being insensitive. Talking about things she knows nothing about. She's never had to lift a finger, probably never will, and then she's calling _us _lazy?"

"She's horrid," Poplar wrinkles his nose. "My brother is in her class at school and apparently she never does her work and then, when the teacher tells her off, she just tells them to take it up with her father."

"Wish I could do that," Birch scoffs. She reaches into her backpack, pulling out some marshmallows that they share around before spearing them on some sticks to roast. "Maybe then I'd actually pass my classes, even if it is just because my dad's the mayor."

"We don't need any qualifications anyway," Cedar shrugs. "Not if all we're doing is cutting trees."

"Yeah, but surely Janice should have some if she's going to one day be _mayor_," Teak shrugs. "Unless we can get her family voted out, we're screwed when Mr. Humbrid finally kicks the bucket. She'll probably have all of the poor exiled out of the district or something so the Capitol can snatch us up and make us avoxes."

"Wouldn't surprise me," Cedar scoffs. "If she ever gets elected you should run against her, Teak. I bet you'd get most of the votes. I'd vote for you, at least. Poplar, too, Birch at a stretch—"

"Shut up, Cedar, of course I'd vote for Teak," Birch protests. "Especially over Janice. I'm sure most people our age will."

"Thanks for your support, guys," Teak says as she roasts her marshmallow, shaking her head slightly. "I'll definitely consider it when I'm asked where I want to be in life in twenty years."

All jokes aside, Teak would make a pretty shitty politician. She's way too hot-headed and reckless for that, and she can just about juggle the pressures of school and work, let alone having to run the whole district. Whilst Mr. Humbrid might have brought up spoiled and bratty daughter, she had to at least have an ounce of respect for him.

"I'm going to bed," she yawns eventually, grabbing two blankets from the pile she'd carried up. Making a makeshift bed, she settles down amongst the fallen leaves and twigs and drifts off as her friends laugh in the background.

* * *

Atkins Polliarc (14).  
District Ten.  
_A day before the reaping._

* * *

_Solitude is not the same as loneliness. Solitude is a solitary boat floating in a sea of possible companions ~ Robert Fulgham._

"Come _on _Atkins," Tripp sighs, tugging on his younger brother's arm. "Mom said we have to go together so stop being a baby. It's just the marketplace, it's not going to kill you."

"Get off!" Atkins gasps, holding onto the doorframe for dear life. "_MOM!_"

It doesn't take long for their mom to join them in the hallway, hands on her hips as she observes the two boys. Tripp frustrated and Atkins terrified. She doesn't even have to ask what the issue is, signalling for Tripp to let go of Atkins before bending down to the younger boy's height, brushing the tears from his face.

"Atkins, honey, what have I said about this?" She asks, firmly but not unkindly. "Sometimes you have to go outside, right? Like right now, I need you to go to the market with your brother to get us some food. And tomorrow you'll have to leave to go to the reaping, and you can't avoid that one. The outside..." she trails off, waiting for Atkins to complete the sentence.

"Isn't my enemy," he finally says in a quiet voice. "But Mom, I really don't want to go—"

"You're going," she says, pressing her lips into a line. "Think of it as practice for tomorrow."

He's ushered out of the door despite his protests, and he can feel his chest getting tighter as Tripp grabs his arm again and pulls him farther away from their home. He doesn't understand it; his older brother is supposed to be caring, but he seems hellbent on terrorising him as much as possible. Sometimes Atkins thinks it's because of what happened to Sawyer, but Tripp has never outright blamed him for it. Not that Atkins would argue if he did.

It wasn't as if he had any control over his name being pulled from that bowl two years ago, but if he had just kept it together and headed up to that stage himself then Sawyer wouldn't have felt the need to volunteer for him. And then maybe Atkins wouldn't have had to watch his older brother get cut down in the bloodbath. Maybe it would have been better if it was him instead; Tripp would be happier, at least and his parents wouldn't have to worry about him as much as he knows they do. He couldn't ruin things from beyond the grave, surely.

It's coming up to two years now since Sawyer died, and Atkins doesn't think that he'll ever get used to it. He wonders what his brother would say about him now, now that his agoraphobia is ten times worse than what it was before Sawyer died, or now that Tripp hates him, or now that Atkins can't even manage to buy himself his own painting supplies and has to get his dad to do it for him. Was it worth sacrificing himself for? Atkins doesn't know.

"Hurry up!" Tripp breaks Atkins from his thoughts, pulling him forward harshly. He barely has time to react before he's on the floor, having tripped over Tripp's foot. It takes all of his self control not to burst into tears right then and there. "Atkins, _get_ _up. _I have to meet with my friends soon, and if I'm late because you start having some stupid panic attack because you tripped I swear to God I'll—"

Atkins's heartbeat is loud in his ears as his brother starts to rant, and he clamps his hands over his ears, cutting off Tripp's tirade. He forces himself to take deep breaths, and, eventually, he starts to calm down. Tripp doesn't grab or jostle him, which he appreciates but when he opens his eyes and his brother is glaring down at him he knows that he's not happy.

But Atkins doesn't apologise, because he's done nothing wrong. Instead, he just climbs to his feet, keeping his eyes glued to the floor as Tripp finally loses his patience and begins to drag him forward yet again. Atkins is well aware that they're not even halfway there yet, but the trip has taken longer than it would have for his mom to just go down herself.

They reach the market place without another incident, although Atkins outright refuses to walk amongst the crowd, instead taking a seat on a bench outside the shoe cobbler's store. He's still on edge, but less so than if he was in the crowd. He doesn't think that Tripp could handle him having another attack—he's not Sawyer after all—and it's not as if he particularly wants to have one himself.

He doesn't know how he's going to handle tomorrow. The crowds are one thing, but the memories are another. He's avoided the square as much as he could since Sawyer volunteered. Last year wasn't something that he wanted to repeat and the only saving grace was that it wasn't his name echoing around the square. It was a boy his age, but it wasn't him. Atkins knows that if he's chosen again, nobody's going to save him this time. Not that he expects them to; it's not Tripp's responsibility to save him. And it isn't as if he has any friends to volunteer for him. He and Judd used to be almost inseparable, but due to Atkins's agoraphobia, they barely see anything more. Sure, Judd will comfort him as they stand together tomorrow, but he wouldn't risk his life for him. Atkins wouldn't want him to, though.

He sits silently until Tripp emerges from the crowd, thrusting a bag at Atkins who manages to catch it before it hits the ground and whatever is in it spills out. Tripp doesn't even wait for him to get up, and so he has to run to catch up to his older brother.

His mind is still going a mile a minute, but they're finally heading home and that makes him feel a little better. When their house comes into view, Atkins takes off running. He throws open the front door, breathless by the time that he skids into the kitchen.

"Hey, buddy," his dad greets, ruffling his hair as Atkins drops into one of the dining room chairs. "How was it."

"I never want to go out there ever again."

"Well, after tomorrow, you can stay inside for as long as you want," he says, taking the bag from him. Tripp appears in the kitchen, rifling through the bag he was carrying before he finds some paints and chucks them towards Atkins.

"Only because Mom told me to," Tripp says. "If you want any more, then you can get them yourself. Hi Dad."

"Hi Tripp," their dad greets. "Be nicer to your brother please."

"Yeah, sure," Tripp rolls his eyes. "I'm heading out now. I'll be home before dinner."

"I'm going upstairs," Atkins says after his brother leaves, gathering up the paints that had been thrown his way. "Bye."

He doesn't wait for a response before taking the stairs two at a time to his room. Whilst he feels safer inside the house in general, his room is his safe space. Dropping the paints onto his bed, he locks his door behind him so that no one can bother him.

When he paints it's almost as if the world doesn't exist. As if one of his brothers isn't dead and the other one doesn't terrorise him. As if the reaping isn't looming tomorrow, and he'll be forced to watch another set of Games where kids are brutally slaughtered. As if he's not scared to leave the house to do anything. As if he doesn't only have one friend who he barely sees anymore.

And so he takes a deep breath, crosses his room, and presses his paintbrush to canvas because as long as he's painting, everything is alright.

* * *

**And that's our last bunch of introductions!**

**They're a little shorter than the previous ones, but I just couldn't seem to get the word counts up without dragging the POVs out. I hope you enjoy reading them, and I hope that I have done them justice. I'm not quite sure why, but I found this bunch a little harder to write. Nothing to do with their forms or anything, though, I think I just need a break from writing introductions. My own fault, really. Respect to all of those who can write twelve reapings in a row; I don't know how you guys can do that!**

**In the next chapter we'll be revisiting our favourite Head Gamemaker for the reaping recap. **

**Thank you for reading and for your reviews! **


	6. 05 - Reaping Recap

**05 - Reaping Recap.**

* * *

Hydna Dagworth (23).  
Gamemaker HQ.  
_Reaping Day._

* * *

The morning of the reaping is busy. Hydna spends most of her time darting around the headquarters, checking in on this and that and making sure that her people are doing what they need to be doing. The time crunch is on, with the tributes already making their way to the Capitol right now, and whilst they're almost done, they're not quite where Hydna wants them to be. The arena was only finished yesterday, after all, and she knows that there are going to be a few changes she wants to make before the Games start.

So, when it's finally time for her to take a break and head to the President's office with her father, she's grateful. He stops by the control room to collect her, and then they head to Eira's office where they wait outside, in a waiting area more comfortable than a waiting area should be, until they're called in. The man leaving President Eira's office is on the verge of tears, but when they walk in the president is smiling.

"You've got an interesting bunch to work with this year," Eira says as Hydna and Scyllis take their seats. "I look forward to seeing what you're going to do with them."

They don't waste any time in starting to watch the reapings. Thankfully, Eira skips through the beginnings; Hydna has heard the speech and watched the video probably more times than those in the districts have, and she's sick and tired of it. She doesn't think that she could stand watching it once more, let along twelve times in less than thirty minutes. She might actually go insane.

Athena Platinum's volunteering is a pretty standard affair; the escort has barely read out the name in the bowl when the girl cries out that she volunteers. There's loud applause, and she takes her place on stage.

"As far as it goes, she's your typical Career," Eira says. "Her trainers say that she struggles socially, but other than that she excels. Her dedication is clear, and she's a definite candidate for Victor, that's for sure," she turns back to the screen, hitting play. "But this is where things get interesting."

The escort is, once again, barely through the name he'd picked from the bowl when a voice rings out. Only the boy making his way isn't met with the applause that Athena was. Instead, there's confusion. Hydna pieces it together pretty quickly; someone who wasn't selected had volunteered.

"Rayyan Zamman," the president says. "Volunteered instead of Luster Lancaster. The reasons, as of now, are unclear, but either way he's in the Games. Not much to report really. A tragic backstory that I'm sure will go down well with the Capitol, but a fairly decent performance in his classes at the Academy. Obviously, he's not the best, considering that he wasn't the chosen tribute, but I wouldn't count him out."

District Two also provides two volunteers as usual. Both of them the selected ones. Valentine Niagara, as President Eira explains, is the daughter of the head peacekeeper. The trainers have nothing bad to say about her, and like most of the careers, she's definitely a contender for the crown. The other volunteer is Masone Stone. Nicknamed "Bigboy" at the Academy, he was definitely someone to be feared.

"Now this is where we have an issue," Eira grimaces as Three's reaping plays. Hydna watches as the girl reaped throws herself into the arms of the mayor on stage, sobbing. She shifts uncomfortably in her seat at the scene, something similar to guilt settling in the pit of her stomach. "Strada is Mayor Wells's daughter."

"The same Mayor Wells who just lost his wife and son?" Hydna's father speaks up, frowning slightly.

"Yes," Eira nods. "I'm sure you've heard that there's accusations against the Capitol for what happened, as Wells has been outspoken as of late, but I can assure you that we had nothing to do with their demise. It was a freak accident. Anyway, this doesn't exactly help our case. Peacekeepers say there are already whispers of rigging which are completely unfounded."

"So, what are we supposed to do?" Scyllis asks.

"There's nothing that we can do," Eira shrugs. "We're going to increase the peacekeeper populations in Three, and hope that Wells is smart enough not to take this personally."

That's a long shot, Hydna thinks, but she doesn't voice her opinion. She expects that things between Wells and the Capitol are going to be strained for a long time especially because, although Hydna hates to say it, the girl doesn't stand a chance. Not next to the careers that were just reaped anyway.

"Moving on," Eira says. A boy a year older than Strada is reaped, standing on the stage with tears dripping down his cheeks. "Dido Harrell. Other than him coming from a very different background to Strada, there's nothing to report."

The Four reapings start playing, again providing them with two more volunteers. The boy almost misses his chance, crying out just before the escort moves to the girl's bowl but the girl is quick on her feet, and flashes a grin when she's on the stage that would rival most of the One girls'.

"Hennessy Guevro and Circe Laguna," Eira informs. "Both selected volunteers, although Hennessy was originally the third pick. The trainers have assured us that he is up to the task, however, and they have no complaints about Circe. Maybe this year will be Four's year."

Five, surprisingly, produces a volunteer. The girl, Samilah, who President Eira claims is the daughter of a factory owner and Hydna recognises her from a few of the gossip magazines that are prevalent amongst Capitolites, looks a little shocked when she first takes to the stage.

"Do we know of any motivation for her volunteering?" Hydna asks.

"Not yet," President Eira shakes her head. "But I'm sure we'll learn in due time."

The boy, Leo, when reaped goes completely still until a boy beside him hugging him breaks him out of his trance. Slowly, he makes his way to the stage and when the camera focuses on him Hydna can see the tears welling in his eyes that he's fighting to hold back.

The girl that's reaped in Six looks under the weather. It takes her a moment to even register that her names is called, but when it is she makes her way to the stage where she has to lean against their escort to keep her balance.

"What's wrong with her?" Scyllis frowns.

"Apparently there was a massive party last night," Eira raises her eyebrows, the corner of her lips quirking up. "It's nothing that a good nap and a few glasses of water won't sort out."

The girl winces as the boy reaped, Lexus, starts shouting into the microphone about it being rigged. There's cries of outrage from the crowd as well on his part, and the escort has to cut the reaping short, ushering the two tributes into the Justice Building as quickly as he can.

"Lexus and his friends had decided that they were above the law," Eira says. "And had decided that they weren't going to attend the reaping. Their plan was discovered, of course, but we had to show them that it wasn't acceptable. Hopefully next year they'll take note."

District Seven produces Teak Martinez, who seems impossibly calm when her name is called, and a hulking boy named Smith who towers over his partner. He keeps his head down, and Hydna knows instantly that he's going to be someone to watch in the arena. She wouldn't put it past him to be able to defeat a career or two, and if an outlier is going to be Victor then she'll be surprised if it isn't Smith.

"Impressive, isn't he?" Eira asks. "Apparently he's handy with an axe, like most in Seven so we'll see where that takes him. But I wouldn't quite rule out Teak either. According to her teachers, she's quite a spitfire."

There's a knock at the door just before the Eight reaping plays, and President Eira calls for whoever it is to come in. The door opens, and a younger avox steps in carrying a drinks tray. She pauses behind Scyllis and Hydna who both reach over and take the mugs of coffee from the tray, Scyllis handing one to Eira who smiles at the young girl.

"Gwendolyn," she says, and Hydna is confused by the use of the avox's name and the president addressing her in general. Hydna had been brought up to be respectful to them, but it was frowned upon by most Capitolites. Definitely by the president, "You're just on time. I have something to show you."

The Eight reapings begin to play, and Hydna keeps an eye on the avox who has moved to the side of the table, staring intently at the screen. At first, Hydna doesn't understand what is so important that the avox has to watch. The boy is called first, a twelve year old that walks to the stage with a blank face, staring out across the district with unfocused eyes. But when the girl's name is called and little Lorraine Tencel shoves her way out of her section, eyes ablaze and fists curled the, thankfully empty, drinks tray goes clattering to the ground.

"How weird," Eira says, looking at the avox who glares back at her. "And what a coincident that it's her twelfth birthday today, too. She might've evaded our hovercraft and our peacekeepers, but let this be a lesson that we don't take kindly to those who throw our kindness back in our faces."

And Hydna wants to ask how this is being kind, but she stays seated, sharing an uncomfortable glance with her father. She's scared that the avox is going to do something, but the girl stands there until she's pulled away by peacekeepers.

Eira clears her throat when the girl is gone. "Gwendolyn was captured after escaping from Eight after a peacekeeper pursuit was supposed to detain both of the sisters for over a hundred counts of theft over several years. Lorraine wasn't outside of the district and so was unable to be captured and has managed to evade the peacekeepers so far. Originally the plan was to arrest her after the reaping, but the peacekeeper force and I decided that we needed a more permanent solution. It's extreme, but it will work. Gwendolyn has been giving us a lot of trouble recently, too, so we're hoping that this will reign her in.

Anyway, that's enough about that. As for Stitch, he's lived in the Community Home for almost his whole life. Something to note is that he's mute, so I'm not sure what we're going to do in his interview but we'll figure something out."

Hydna just smiles and nods, still trying to wrap her head around the cruelty of Eira. She supposes that she can't really talk, engineering mutts and arenas that are going to lead to the death of twenty three children, but she doesn't take any pleasure out of it, that's for sure.

District Nine is interesting. Two reaped tributes, both with connections to past Games. Milla Warthstone, the sister of late Ceres Warthstone of last year's Games, and Azran Peralta, the twin brother of Izan Peralta who'd been reaped six years ago. When Azran reaches the stage, Milla lets out a laugh of disbelief but other than that the district is silent. It's an odd coincidence that even Eira sounds shocked by when she related it to Scyllis and Hydna.

"And we've got Atkins Polliarc from Ten, too," President Eira says, letting Ten's reaping play. The boy in question has to be carried up to the stage by the peacekeepers, collapsing in a heap as soon as they let go of him. "His name was pulled two years ago, but his brother Sawyer stepped in. Unfortunately this time there was no one to save him."

The girl, Nora-Raine, who President Eira admits they don't know a lot about due to the girl being homeschooled her entire life, shuffles up to the stage in shock. Behind the rope, there's a lot of screaming and shouting that ripples through some of the sections.

"One thing we do know about her," Eira says. "She has twelve siblings."

"That's a busy household," Scyllis nods. "I'm surprised one didn't volunteer for her."

"Love only stretches so far," Eira shrugs. "But, onto Eleven."

They watch as the girl reaped stares out at the crowd, almost hyperventilating after her name is called out. But the action doesn't happen until the boy's name is called and the accusation of rigging begins. The boy is so angry, that it takes a knock to the back of his head with the butt of a peacekeeper's gun to silence him, and President Eira pauses it there, grimacing.

"Javier Lopez, another mayor's kid and another problem," she says. "I had his father on the phone to me demanding that I re reap. Of course that couldn't be done, but I've got to find another strained political relationship to repair."

"And the girl?"

"Not much to say. She's fairly normal in all regards. Her uncle was killed after standing up to the Capitol, but I don't expect there will be any repercussions for that within her behaviour," the president says. "Apparently she's quite non-confrontational."

When Twelve's reaping rolls around, Hydna is ready to be done with them. She watches as the girl reaped, a small twelve year old, tries to fight her way behind the rope to whom Hydna can only assume is her father. The peacekeepers have to carry her up, but she stays put next to their escort when she's put down. After the boy's name is read out, there's silence. But eventually, he starts to move up to the stage.

"Arthur is deaf," Eira explains as the boy takes his place. "He's also a Community Home kid, so it'll be interesting to see how he fares in the arena. As for Bijou, she's a pretty normal Seam kid. Her father has been out of work for a few months after being injured in the mines, but the family seems to be managing."

The screen flickers off, and Hydna leans back in her chair. President Eira was right; she does have an interesting lot this year. From rigged reaped tributes, to volunteers with no clear motives, to tributes who have already lost someone in the Games, to mayor's kids and everyone in between.

She leaves Eira's office with the files on the tributes, and her mind racing a mile a minute as she tries to tie the tributes to what she has planned for her arena.

It'll be one interesting Games, that's for sure. Hopefully one for the ages.

* * *

**I wasn't expecting to finish this so fast but it's a shorter chapter than the others, so. **

**Here are your first impressions of all twenty four tributes! Do you have any that you're rooting for already? Any that you feel sorry for? **

**I had a few PMs regarding Blue's age in the first set of introductions; she was marked as eleven there as her birthday is on Reaping Day. I hope that clears it up. Also, what did you think of Pup being reintroduced as an avox? Thank you to TakeTheCrown, Blue's creator, for allowing me to do that!  
**

**The next chapter will be train rides, and will hopefully be up sometime soon. I'm aiming for two train ride chapters with six POVs of the tributes that haven't been introduced yet, so they may take a little longer to write but I'll try my best to get them out as soon as possible! **

**Thank you for reading and reviewing! **


	7. 06 - Train Rides I

**06 - Train Rides I  
TW for mentions of suicide in Rayyan's POV**

* * *

Arthur Ryan (18).  
District Twelve Male.

* * *

Arthur knows that there's some kind of argument going on around the dinner table, but he doesn't know what's being said and it's mildly frustrating. He's never been good at reading lips anyway, but they're all speaking so fast that he doesn't even know where to begin, or who's lips to even read. He just drops his gaze down to his plate, loading it with more food. At one point, there are fingers being pointed at both him and the little girl sat next to him and Arthur doesn't know what they're saying about them, but the little girl bursts into tears and runs from the room.

Both the women arguing, who Arthur suspects are their mentors, don't seem to even care. They just continue their shouting match. He feels his lip curl in disgust at their blatant lack of empathy, and professionalism and he stands up, grabbing the little girl's half-empty plate along with his own. She looks like she's skipped one too many meals already.

He taps his foot against her door, hands occupied and waits until she pulls it open before he steps in. She furiously wipes as her eyes before he hands her her plate.

'Thank you,' she signs before taking it, and Arthur feels his eyes widen.

He puts down his own plate on her bedside table, turning to the young girl who sits cross-legged on her bed. He clears his throat to get her attention, and she looks up.

'You can sign?' He asks, and she nods.

'My momma was deaf,' she signs.

'Was?'

'She got sick,' the girl grimaces, and Arthur notices the slight tremble in her hands and the tears welling up in her eyes. He feels bad for asking. 'So. Um. It's been a few months. Sorry if I'm rusty.'

'No. No. You're fine. It's a relief,' Arthur smiles. 'At least I have someone I can communicate with.'

The girl nods, wiping at her eyes again. 'I'm Bijou,' she finger spells her name, and Arthur realises that he has no idea how to pronounce that. Still, he doesn't need to say it out loud so he supposes it's fine.

'I'm Arthur.'

'I know.'

'So, what was going on at the table?'

Bijou drops her gaze. 'They were arguing over who gets to mentor you,' she signs. 'They really, really don't want to mentor me,' her hands are shaking again. 'You're deaf but at least you're strong. Gia said that I should just throw myself on the landmines before the Games start. She said it'll be less pathetic than dying at the hands of a Career.'

'Well, she doesn't know what she's talking about,' Arthur frowns. 'Besides, they were both drunk. I'm sure they didn't mean it. Gia wasn't much older than you when she won her Games Maybe she's just mad you'll steal her thunder as the youngest Victor this decade.'

'Maybe,' Bijou shrugs. "But I won't get very far without allies.'

'You'd get farther than I would,' Arthur signs, and he means it. It's all well and good for him to escape the bloodbath, which Bijou could do if she was smart, but what about if a Career or other tribute snuck up behind him? Killed him in his sleep?

Bijou shifts a little beside him. 'We could ally?' She signs. 'I can be your ears and I can help you communicate with the others?'

Arthur doesn't hesitate. He barely knows the kid, but he needs her. 'Sure,' he signs. The little girl grins. 'We'll watch the reapings later, see who else we want on our team.'

'Sounds good,' Bijou nods. 'But I think I want to take a nap before we do that. It's been a long day. Just knock on my door when you're ready.'

Arthur takes her now empty plate and leaves. As he's walking back to the lounge cart, he wonders if he's done the right thing. Bijou's sweet, and she can communicate with him, but she's also twelve. If she does make it out of the bloodbath is there really any chance for her? If a career comes to their camp in the middle of the night, although she'll be able to hear them, is there really any chance of them fighting back? He can barely imagine her killing a fly, let alone another tribute.

Daisy and David back home, would they have told him to ally with her? David had told him to find allies whilst he was saying goodbye, but was he thinking of Arthur's tiny district partner when he said that? Would anyone even want to ally with a deaf kid and his twelve year old friend?

Well, whatever he's done is done. Bijou is his ally and Arthur isn't about to take that back.

He hands the plates to an avox, surveying the almost empty room. Their escort has gone. One of their mentors is passed out on the sofa, the other is nowhere to be seen. So much for being helpful.

He retreats back to his room, thankful for the solitude. Today has been one hell of a ride and in the coming days, there'll be little room for alone time. The Games are all about forcing them together, after all. Even if it is only to kill.

Alone, he thinks about Daisy. About how she'd kissed him and said she'd miss him. About Twelve, and the kids in the community home he'll miss. Without Daisy he wouldn't even know sign language; he'd have no chance of making allies or communicating with anyone save for writing on paper scraps that they'd pass back and forth, and without her brother, he wouldn't know how to even set a snare. At least that's something he'll find useful in the Games.

It's a good thing he doesn't have to rely on either of Twelve's mentors to help him, because then he'd be screwed. The trainers will be one thing, but the advice of those who'd been in the position that he and Bijou were in now and had lived to tell the tale? It's pretty much invaluable. But Arthur is sure that he and Bijou can figure it out; between them they must have enough skills to survive in the wild. And if they do need advice from a mentor, he's sure that if they find other allies they can have them ask their, hopefully competent, mentors.

It's not really the end of the world that he's stuck with those two. And he's not really sure that he wants to take advice from someone who'd practically told a twelve year old to kill herself.

Arthur doesn't know if he's being too optimistic when he thinks about his odds. He's sure that the Capitol don't think much of him, but when he thinks it over himself, he's got the skills. And age is on his side, too. He'll be one of the oldest there.

And he has Daisy waiting for him back home. He'd never caught on before, but now that he thinks back on it it was pretty obvious that she liked him. Her kiss in the goodbye room had caught him slightly off guard, but that wasn't a bad thing. He likes her too.

And she gives him something to fight for, something to return back to Twelve for, which is more than most Community Home kids have.

Arthur takes a shower and gets changed into something more comfortable before he heads over to Bijou's room and knocks on her door. She appears, bleary-eyed and half asleep with a blanket draped around her shoulders and they get ready to see who their competition is.

Hopefully, together, they can beat them.

* * *

Stitch Everett (12).  
District Eight.

* * *

"Come on guys. We can't help you out if you won't talk to us," Corduroy pleads, looking between Stitch and Blue. "We just want to know what you're good at."

_I'm good at being silent_, Stitch thinks. But even if he wanted to talk to his mentors, which he doesn't really, it's not as if he could. And it's not as if he enjoys the awkward stretches of silence between Corduroy and Twilla's questions and begging, either. If anything, they should be directing their speech towards Blue. At least she can answer them if she wants to.

"Do either of you have any questions about how to survive? How to find water?" Twilla tries once more.

"I have a question," Lorraine speaks up eventually. The mentors look at her expectantly. "When will you two realise that neither of us is interested in this shit right now?"

Their escort, Alastor, gasps. "Lorraine—!"

"What?" She snaps. "I'm not being rude, I'm just telling the truth. Stitch and I don't want to be here! We just want to go to our rooms and be left alone, but you _insist _on trying to help us when we don't want your help! Besides, I've already told you. My name is not Lorraine. It's Blue."

"Blue is not the name that I called out," Alastor argues.

"Who gives a fuck—?"

"Blue, stop it," Twilla says firmly. Stitch expects the girl to start arguing even more, it's definitely mildly entertaining, but she doesn't. Just glares at Twilla. "I get that tensions are running high, but that doesn't mean that we can't be civil to each other."

"I've just been rigged into a game that I'm going to die in," Blue huffs. "Sorry for not being fucking civil. But I'll make sure that I'm civil in the arena, you know, apologise to the careers for getting blood on their weapons when they stab me or whatever."

"I told you this when you first boarded the train, Lorraine, the reapings are not—"

"I really don't care about what you have to say, Alastor," Blue says, rolling her eyes. "I'm going to my room. Leave me alone."

It falls silent again as she storms off, but Stitch doesn't hang around. He gets up and leaves too, following Blue to the bedrooms. There's no point in him hanging around after all because it's not as if he's going to strike up any meaningful conversation with anyone and none of them have even thought of finding a different way for him to communicate with them. He'll write on a scrap of paper if he has to, although it's not as if right now he has anything to say.

He's still trying to wrap his head around how this has happened. As a Community Home kid, of course, he had an increased chance of being picked; it was almost always a Community Home kid with the amount of tesserae they had to take out. But it should have been a different kid. Not him.

Why wasn't it someone who stole the younger kids' breakfast? Or someone who would be purposefully loud in the morning? Or keep everyone up at night? There were plenty of people who it should have been and Stitch isn't one of them. Not that he's saying those kids deserve to die, none of the Community Home kids do really, but all he did was mind his own business and keep to himself. And now he's being punished and is speeding towards his inevitable death with two annoying mentors, an annoying escort, and a girl who could probably kill Stitch just by looking at him. Life really isn't fair as Stitch has come to realise in the past few hours.

The size of his room catches him off guard a little when he pushes open the door, and he stands in the doorway for a good few seconds as he tries to take it all in. It's bigger than the rooms they would cram twelve of them in back in Eight, and the bed is massive. Too big for one person, surely?

He doesn't even take up half of it when he flops down, staring at the ceiling. Okay. Maybe there are _some _upsides to the Games. The rooms and the food. But that's it. The rest sucks, and he doesn't even want to think about how he's going to handle half of the pre-Games stages. How is he supposed to make allies, or do the interviews, when he can't even talk?

He supposes that he could ask Blue to be his ally. Slip a scrap of paper under her door or something, but she scares him too much. Besides, out of the two of them, she has the most chance of getting home, so why would she want an ally like him? But all he really needs is one ally who he can trust to make good decisions and to recruit the right people to their alliance. Because if he wants to get anywhere in the Games that's not the bloodbath, he needs allies. Preferably ones that want to brave the bloodbath whilst he runs as far away as possible.

But then would anyone who wanted to ally with him of all people want to do that? Or would they be looking for someone to brave the bloodbath for them, too?

Stitch doesn't know. He doesn't know what his plan is, or what he wants to do. But even with a plan, he's still going to die. So is there really much point in making one?

Rolling over, he buries his face in his pillow. He really just wants to go home. To return to Eight and pretend that none of this ever happened. It's not possible, but it's a nice thought anyway.

He knows he's not made out for this. Corduroy and Twilla know he's not made out for this. The entirety of Eight knows that he's not made out for this, he could see it in their faces when he was stood on the stage. They were definitely thinking that they would have two bloodbaths this year. And maybe they were right. Not that he's being mean about Blue, but neither of them is outright Victor material. Maybe she'll be able to pull something out of her sleeve, but Stitch knows that he won't be able to.

He doesn't want to give up already, but after watching the reapings earlier he just doesn't know how he's going to do this. He's twelve, from an outer district and to top it all off, he's mute. The careers will kill him easily, or maybe the boy from Seven. Hell, the girl his age from Twelve could probably take him out too if she set her mind to it.

Well. At least when he dies he'll get to see his mom again.

Maybe that's another plus of these Games.

* * *

Nora-Raine Fowler (14).  
District Ten.

* * *

Nora-Raine's head is foggy. She hasn't moved from this couch since the train started moving, curled up on the corner section with her mama's necklace clutched in her hand. Whenever she starts to feel herself floating away, she holds it so tight that it hurts, the edges of the cross digging into her hand, and then she's back again listening to their mentors whispering in the background and the drama currently going on in the soap opera that their escort, Verity, is watching.

Mama said that she has to stay focused now, that she can't let her thoughts wander away because if she does that in the Games, then… well, she won't be going home. God will help her the best He can whilst she's in the arena, but He can't do so if she's trapped in her thoughts. So she's trying her best, but it's so quiet in the room and there's nothing for her to do, that it just keeps happening. One minute she's barely focusing on Verity's show and the next she's back in the fields of Ten helping her papa. Except she's not really because she's on the train on her way to the Capitol, and it's just in her mind.

But if she closes her eyes, she can feel the wind on her skin…

No.

Mama's necklace in her hand. Hurting. Someone yelling on Verity's show. The sound of the train whizzing over the tracks.

She opens her eyes. She's on the train.

"Oh, I thought you were asleep!" Verity exclaims when Nora-Raine shifts beside her. "How are you feeling, honey?"

_Tired, scared, hungry, _she thinks. But all she says is, "fine, thank you," and then, not wanting to be impolite. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm good," Verity smiles. "Thank you for asking. Do you want a pastry?" She holds out a plate of them, and Nora-Raine has to resist grabbing one.

"No thank you. You're not supposed to eat in front of the TV."

"Oh, you can here," Verity says. "Otherwise I wouldn't be doing it, would I? I'm not a rule-breaker either."

"It's really not against the rules?" Nora-Raine tilts her head.

"I promise you," Verity nods, holding out the plate once more. Nora-Raine hesitantly takes one. "There, see? It's fine. Nobody's shouting at us."

"And it tastes good," Nora-Raine grins, swallowing a mouthful. "Thank you, ma'am."

"It's no problem," Verity smiles. "There's plenty more if you're hungry."

Over the next hour, Nora-Raine eats eight of the pastries, sitting in front of the TV and talking to Verity about the show that she's watching. Soap operas are on at home a lot, whenever the Fowler kids are allowed to take a break from their schoolwork or chores, but Nora-Raine has never seen this one before. It's one that's shown only in the Capitol apparently, but Verity is more than happy to fill Nora-Raine in on what she's missed.

"We can watch a few episodes after dinner," the woman gushes. "Oh, and if you wake up early before training I'm sure that we could fit one or two in."

Nora-Raine tells Verity about the ones that she watches with her siblings, about how sometimes they like to dress up and re-enact scenes. Even her brothers. And they laugh about it and Nora-Raine doesn't think that she's been so engrossed in a conversation in a while. Her mama and papa will listen to her and her siblings, but they don't necessarily understand. And there's only so many times that she can listen to Maxim fawning over one of the actresses, or Elsie-Jo making up theories about what's going to happen in the next seasons after the always dramatic cliff hangers. It's different talking about the shows with Verity, and she doesn't know why but it is. More entertaining definitely.

"I hate to break this up," Susie, one of their mentors says. "But it's dinner time, and the food will get cold if you keep on."

So, they migrate to the dinner table where Atkins finally joins them after being holed up in his room the whole time. But when they sit down, everyone starts eating almost instantly. Nora-Raine frowns.

"What about saying grace?" She asks, and they stop.

"You can say it if you want to, Nora," Jude says. "No one's stopping you."

"But you're supposed to say it together," she frowns. "Or, that's what we do at home."

"Exactly," Jude says. "That's what you do in your house. Not everybody says grace before their meals."

"Oh."

"I'll say it with you," Atkins murmurs from beside her.

So Nora-Raine takes her district partner's hand, closing her eyes as she says grace. Afterwards, she attempts to strike up a conversation with him during the moments when her mouth isn't full, but he doesn't seem interested. He just keeps his gaze down on his food, and as soon as the plates are cleared he practically runs back to his room.

Nora-Raine has to hold back a sigh. She can't just leave her mentors and Verity alone, but she really wants to go to her room too. Maybe take a nap. Susie and Jude suggested they watch the recap of the reapings, but even thinking about doing that makes Nora-Raine's head foggy again.

But she's already accepted their invitation to watch it, so she has to. Mama wouldn't be impressed with her if she backed out. That's not how she taught her to be. She needs to be polite.

"I forgot to ask at dinner," Susie says as Nora-Raine joins her on the couch, sandwiching herself between her mentor and Verity. "Do you prefer your full name or just Nora?"

"My full name," she answers. "It's a mouthful but Mama says ladies don't have nicknames."

Susie laughs. "They don't?"

"Well, some might," Nora-Raine shrugs. She looks to Verity. "Like on the TV shows we watch, but Mama says it's not proper for _real_ people to have nicknames."

"I guess she wouldn't like me then?" Susie asks. "I have a nickname."

"Well, nicknames aren't everything," Nora-Raine says. "She'd like you, probably. I can't speak for her, though."

The reapings start playing then, so they're saved from any more awkward conversation. The first two sets of careers are terrifying, but Three is sort of relieving.

"You could try and ally with either of those two," Susie suggests. "They're both around your age."

"Yeah. Maybe."

The four pair are scary, too. Trained killers who seem way too happy to be stood up on that stage. It makes Nora-Raine's skin crawl. Susie suggests the two from Five as well, and maybe the pair from Eight. Nora-Raine doesn't know about that, though; the girl kind of scares her.

When Ten's reaping comes on and her name echoes around the district, it feels as if Nora-Raine has been doused in a bucket of ice-cold water. Her hand moves up to the necklace hanging around her neck now, and she tightens her grip on the cross charm as she makes her way up to the stage and Mama and Papa and all of her siblings cry out.

And then she bursts into tears, leaning on Verity who tries to soothe her the best she can. She'd managed to keep herself together for the reaping and the goodbyes, but now it's as if a dam has broken.

It's real. She's going into the Hunger Games.

_God help me_. _Please._

* * *

Milla Warthstone (17)  
District Nine Female.

* * *

Two Warthstones in two years. She hopes that the Capitol is happy with themselves, tearing a family apart one child at a time.

Hell, the Capitolites are probably eating this up right now; she and Arzan. Grieving siblings that are now tributes, walking the same paths that their fallen siblings have. Makes for good TV in their minds, she guesses. Their lack of humanity that comes along with the Games make her sick. Everything's dramatised, whether it's dead siblings or parents, or an outburst from a sibling at the reaping. It's all fair game to be discussed and brought up on those Capitol talk shows and then it's rehashed in the interviews where most of the kids look, and are, wildly uncomfortable.

Ceres had looked almost at ease on that stage, though, in his blue suit with his feet not even touching that ground when he sat on that chair. She won't. Not when she knows that she's going to be asked about him. They're inevitably going to turn it into a tragedy—which it is—but they won't recognise it as one that _they _created.

It wasn't anyone in the districts who sent Ceres the sponsor package with the nightlock berries, that was for sure.

If they'd had the money, they'd have sent him medicine, or food, or something useful. Not something that would cause him to die.

It makes her feel sick, and she's too wrapped up in her thoughts that she barely even registers the flashing of the cameras as she steps out onto the train platform, keeping her gaze down on her shoes as she steps onto the train.

She and Arzan are lead through to the lounge cart, where they take a seat at the table opposite their mentors, Bran and Zea.

Zea clears her throat. "Firstly," she says. "We want you to clear the air about any hard feelings you may have towards us about not being able to bring your siblings home. You have a right to be angry with us, and we respect that, but we'd rather that your feelings don't get in the way of our mentoring. So, if you have anything you want to say, go ahead. We won't argue back."

Milla and Arzan share a glance. Both of them know that it's not the mentor's fault; they'd done the best that they could. She was only eleven when Izan's Games were aired, but if she remembers correctly, Izan's death was a mercy killing by the eventual victor. That wasn't Bran or Zea's fault. And it wasn't the mentors themselves who'd sent Ceres the berries. So how could she blame them? Sure, they were in charge of getting them sponsors but it wasn't as if they could control what those sponsors sent them. Their money, their items, after all.

"Okay," Bran says after a while. "That's a relief. So, do either of you two have any questions about the Games?"

"I do," Milla nods. "I have a few, actually."

They go back and forth over the next two hours. Arzan leaves at some point, but Milla wants to get home and that means that she has to take everything they say on board. It means that she needs to be able to build a shelter, she needs to be able to find and purify water, to know which plants are poisonous and although Bran and Zea's answers are sometimes complicated and useless without a demonstration, it's not anything that she can't learn in training. But at least she has somewhat of an idea about what to expect.

"Do you have any idea about allies?" Zea asks once the reapings finish.

"People around my age," Milla shrugs. She doesn't think that she could stomach allying with a younger kid. They remind her too much of Ceres. Watching the little boy from Eight making his way to the stage when he was reaped had made her stomach turn. "I don't know who, though. Maybe Arzan if he's up for it, although I want to wait until training before actually making my mind up. Watch everybody in action and figure it out from there."

"What if somebody approaches you first?"

"Well, they'd have to prove that they're going to be a decent ally before I accept their offer," Milla says. "I can't just ally with anyone. And they have to promise not to get attached; we're probably going to have to try and kill each other if the alliance actually works and we're the last people in the arena, so..."

"No one's going to want to ally with them if you bring that up," Zea laughs, eyebrows raised.

"It's the truth," Milla shrugs. "Whether they like it or not. We all want to go home, and part of that is having to kill people. Alliances be damned. Besides, we'd have only known each other for a few weeks. We shouldn't be getting that attached anyway."

"It's not that easy," Zea grimaces. "But you'll find that out, I'm sure."

"What do you mean?"

"The friendships in the Games are different than those you have at home," Zea says. "They just are. These kids are desperate, and they want exactly the same thing that you do. If it comes down to it they'll kill for you, and you'll kill for them. It's weird, and you wouldn't expect it; hell, I had the same mindset that you did when I was reaped but when it came down to it? In those Games I would have died for my allies. I still would."

"But you didn't," Milla says, and she doesn't mean it to sound as cold as it does, feeling slightly bad when she sees Zea's grimace.

"You're right," Zea nods. "But they died for me. One of my allies, Buck, he had seven siblings to go home to, a mom, a dad. I had nobody but a few orphans in the community home, no one to move into Victor's Village with me, but he still sacrificed himself so that I could go home. The Games make you do things Milla, things that don't make a lot of sense. Like sacrificing yourself so that someone you've only know a couple of weeks can go home to their family."

Milla shifts awkwardly in her seat. "Yeah, but that won't happen to me. I _have _to get home. For my mom and dad and my friends and for Ceres. I can't just get killed for my allies. What if they don't even end up winning? Then it would've been for nothing."

"You're not the only one who's fighting to get home for the ones that you love, Milla," Zea says. "That's the thing. In the next couple of days, you're going to meet people from all walks of life. With families, with no one, kids who live in luxury and kids who live with nothing… and you know how it feels to lose someone to these Games. Twenty-three families will be feeling the same way that yours has by the time there's a Victor. Now, I'm not saying that you're going to sacrifice yourself for your allies, and you're not obligated to either, I'm not saying that you're not going to kill them in order to get yourself home, but I'm just saying that it's not as straight forward as you're making it out to be."

Milla doesn't know what to respond with to that, so she just stays quiet. She can see where Zea is coming from, she really can, but she just doesn't think that's going to be the case for her. She's not stupid, and she's not disillusioned; she knows that she's probably going to die, and that she's going to face the same fate as her younger brother, but she's not going to give up her chance of victory for an ally. She can't do that to her family.

"I'm going to bed," she says eventually. It was dark out, and dinner was long over. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Mentally prepare yourself for the chariot prep," Zea calls after her, laughing. "It's one hell of an experience, I'll tell you that."

* * *

Circe Laguna (18).  
District Four Female.

* * *

Hennessy has already claimed the couch before Circe has even stepped foot into the lounge. He's sprawled out with a plate of food, shoes kicked off as she walks in.

"Fancy seeing you here," he drawls as she heads over to the buffet table, grabbing a few things to snack on in the hours before dinner.

"I was worried you wouldn't do it," she shoots back, sitting at the table. He scoffs. "It looked as if you'd forgotten you were supposed to volunteer for a moment. I was preparing to have a fourteen year old as my district partner."

"But aren't you glad I remembered?" He teases. She has her back turned to him, so she can only imagine what kind of facial expression he's pulling right now. "It's your favourite selected volunteer. I'm a lot better than Ermin or Ripley."

"You would have been if you actually turned up to the training sessions we were supposed to have together," Circe shrugs. "But you'll do, I guess. I'll make sure to lay some flowers on your grave after I move into Victor's Village."

Hennessy laughs, and Circe finds herself smiling as she eats her food. When she meets Hennessy's mentor's eyes, he just smiles and shakes his head. They've been training together for the last couple of weeks, well when Hennessy hasn't been working, and the teasing has been almost non stop. But they're not friends. They can't be friends, not when they're heading into the arena together. They can't both go home. But either way, she has to put up with him for the next however many weeks and there's no point in making it uncomfortable.

When it's all over, she'll be Victor and she'll be home. That thought will get her through the Games, she's sure. Thinking about how proud her mom is going to be, and how her name will be read out in the list of victors long after she's dead. It makes her feel warm inside.

Of course Hennessy will have to die for that to happen, but it's just something that has to happen. There's no victors without deaths. It's just a part of the Games.

"Have you watched the other reapings, yet?" Hennessy calls to his mentor. "Do you know what kind of people we're allying up with?"

"Not yet," Caspian answers. "But they'll be playing soon, and again after dinner. You guys know the drill. There'll be the talk shows later on in the night, too if you want to watch one of those. But I wouldn't recommend it if you're sensitive."

"Might want to stay away then, Hennessy," Circe says, looking over her shoulder at the boy who sticks his tongue out at her. "Can't have you getting your ego bruised before the parade, Mr. Third Pick."

"Speak for yourself, Laguna," Hennessy says. "You know the Capitol will love me after the parade. They just won't be able to resist."

"Make sure your prep team remember to cover up your 'I love my mom' tattoo," She teases.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you," Hennessy grins. "I got it changed to 'I love my district partner'."

Circe gags. Hennessy laughs so hard that he almost falls off of the couch.

When the first rerun of the reapings are on, they cram themselves onto the couch and Hennessy is forced to give up all of the space he'd claimed. They really should put bigger couches in here that can actually fit five people, though, Circe finds herself thinking as the commentators drone on at the beginning about things she doesn't care about. It doesn't really matter; it's not as if it's going to be detrimental to her experience, but it's rather annoying.

Hennessy nudges her to focus when the reapings actually start, and they're both caught extremely off guard when they realise that the second member of the Career Pack shown isn't the selected volunteer. It's clear by the stunned silence of the district, and there's the same atmosphere in their train cart when Hennessy pauses the programme and turns to the two mentors.

"Can he do that?" He asks, mouth hanging slightly open. Selected volunteers have been a tradition for almost as long as the games have been running, give or take the first twenty or so years. There have been a few random volunteers over the years, of course, but none recently. And none that have won, either.

"Technically," Caspian shrugs. "Anyone can volunteer. Nothing's actually stopping them besides tradition."

"Do we have to let him into the Career Pack?" Circe frowns.

"You don't have to let anyone in if you don't want to," Neptuna says. "But I'd advise against barring anyone. He might be a valuable member, you never know."

Hennessy plays the reapings, and they move onto the next district. The other two members of the feared Career Pack volunteer, actually chosen by their district, and Circe finds herself thinking that the girl from Two is pretty. The boy is the usual brute, though. Circe just hopes that it's not just in appearance. He's definitely going to give her a run for her money when it comes to who's going to lead the pack.

Other than that, nobody really stands out to her other than the hulking boy from Seven. They'll have to watch out for him; there'll be no contest with him against the pack as a whole but Circe would be willing to bet that he'd be a challenge one on one. She's not going to let herself die to an outlier. They'll have to take him out early on. In the bloodbath preferably, before he's even grabbed a weapon. Hennessy seems to be thinking the same thing.

But overall, the Career Pack seems like a solid one this year, even with Rayyan. Of course, she'll have to wait until training to see their strengths individually, and as a whole, but she's confident that they can eliminate their competition fairly easily. If they're lucky they can even take out whole districts in the bloodbath.

She could probably kill the kids from Eight in her sleep, and the pair from Twelve don't really stand a chance either. Not with the girl's age and the boy's deafness.

They talk a little more over food, about their strengths and weaknesses and a general strategy once they're in the arena. It's nothing that Circe and Hennessy haven't talked about before with their trainers, but going over it with their mentors cements it, irons it out. Makes it real. Circe is really doing this. She's actually going into the Games.

As she's lying down to sleep, she replays her goodbyes in her mind. How her mom was so proud of her. How her father was too busy to come and visit, even though he loved her. How Orabelle kissed her and she could taste the salt from their tears. She thinks about how proud they'll all be when she actually returns.

How proud the whole district will be.

Her entire life, literally, is dependant on what happens in the next few weeks. She just hopes that nobody fucks it up.

* * *

Rayyann Zamman (18).  
District One male.

* * *

He can already tell just by the way that the mentors look at him as he boards the train, that they're not happy with him. They look even angrier than Luster was when he came to visit after Rayyan stole his place in the Games. He hadn't factored in others' reactions when his hand went up and he called out, but now that he's faced with them he's beginning to doubt actually doing it.

Onyx gets to his feet, crossing his arms as Rayyan makes his way to the table as Athena excuses herself to her room.

"Why did you do it?" He asks, eyes narrowed.

"A lot of reasons," Rayyan says. He tries to keep his voice steady; he doesn't want them to think that he can't even handle being questioned. "It's fine. Luster's seventeen. He can volunteer next year."

"But he shouldn't have to volunteer next year," Onyx says. "He should be here right now."

"But he isn't," Rayyan counters, "Look. I'm here, and there's nothing that you or I can do about it. So if you wouldn't mind leaving me alone about it, I'd appreciate it."

Onyx holds up his hands. "I will. But it's not just me that you're going to have to answer to. You have five other people you're going to be spending most of your time with, who have been selected for this, who have worked hard for this, and you're going to have to answer their questions without the snark. They don't have to let you into the alliance if you don't want to. Technically, you aren't one of them. You might have trained with the same organisation as them, you may have the same mentality as they do, but you weren't selected like they were."

"Do you not think I can do it, Onyx?" Rayyan questions. It's something that he's told himself over and over, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. _You aren't good enough. You'll never get chosen. _But hearing it from someone else hurts. Especially someone that's supposed to be helping him.

"I'm not saying that you can't," Onyx says. "I don't know enough about you to judge, but those five others might not think that you can. It's up to you to prove that despite not being chosen, you're still a Career."

Rayyan takes his leave, heading to the back of the train where the bedrooms are. It's a nice room, and he switches on the TV for some background noise as he paces the room, rethinking his decision. Onyx isn't lying when he says that he'll need to prove himself to the other Careers. He's sure that they're going to be as confused as the district was when he volunteered.

But what was he supposed to do? It was his last year, and he needed to volunteer. He needs to win, to be as rich as the others in One, to get away from his mother, to be more than just poor Mohammed's son, to be something far from what he is now. If he didn't volunteer he'd be stuck for the rest of his life, and he doesn't know how much longer he could've put up with that. Bullying is a lot easier to shrug off at eight than it is at eighteen, and he's old enough now to realise that it just isn't fair. Nothing is fair.

His position in the district isn't fair, how he's getting treated for volunteering isn't fair. Granted, Athena didn't seem to have a reaction other than thinly-veiled confusion as he took to the stage, and she hadn't hung around long enough to voice her opinion, but from what Onyx was saying, the others weren't going to be happy.

Why? They didn't know Luster, they didn't know his strengths or his weaknesses. As far as they knew, he could be better than him—the trainers weren't always renowned for their fairness when picking tributes after all.

All they'll be getting mad about is tradition. Which means nothing. Like Onyx had said; Rayyan had trained for the same academy, he was an eager as any of them. He was a career through and through. Volunteering when he hadn't been picked didn't change that.

Or did it? After all, the trainers believed more in Luster. It was Luster who used to win the team matches for them in the gym, and Luster who helped train day after day…

No.

Now isn't a time for self-doubt. How is he supposed to convince the others that he's worthy of being in their alliance when he doesn't believe it himself? He closes his eyes, forces himself to take a few deep breaths.

His father wouldn't want him to be doubting himself like this. He'd be proud of him for volunteering, for doing something to benefit himself instead of just wallowing all the time. Rayyan misses him. He could've used his advice in a time like this.

Lying down on the bed, he pulls out the note that his mom had given to him as his token. He hasn't read it yet, can't quite bring himself to, but he stares at the yellowing paper and tries not to think about his dad lying in that bathtub with the red water. Instead, he thinks about the time that they used to spend at the pool together, where they used to train. He thinks about the painting that he has stashed under his bed of Rayyan on his father's shoulders, the two of them grinning. He thinks of the colour blue, and how it cycles back to the memory of the pool.

He thinks about the good times that they had together, and he's able to keep his mind off of the bathtub long enough to get distracted by the TV. It's one of those stupid gossip shows that run throughout the Games, supposedly with the inside scoop on the tributes.

They're talking about him, a still from the reaping in the upper right corner. Apparently, they'd talked to the trainers back in One, who were reporting him as someone to watch out for. That makes him feel a little bit better, that not everybody is doubting him just because he wasn't the selected volunteer. He should've known that the Capitol would eat it up, though; it's drama, and God knows the Capitol love that. On these shows, they'll take anything they can find about a tribute's life and spin it into a massive thing.

Rayyan switches it off when they start discussing the reasoning for his volunteering. He doesn't care what they have to say for that, and he can't be bothered to find out what ridiculous reasons they're going to pin on him.

A quick trip to the lounge cart for some food and a long shower later, Rayyan finds himself settling into bed.

He's got a lot riding on the first few impressions, and the tribute parade is no exception. In the minutes before the chariot ride starts, he'll have his first glimpses of the people that he has to try and impress.

He can't let himself down. Not when he's already gone this far. He has a lot to prove, and even though the voice in his head telling him he can't do it is loud, he's inclined to disagree this one time.

* * *

**This was a beast of a chapter to write, but it's finally done!**

**I hope you like the introductions for these characters as much as I enjoyed writing them. Hopefully the next chapter doesn't take as long to write as this one did, but I can't make any promises. Either way, the next chapter will wrap up the introductions and then we can move onto the tributes in the Capitol. Exciting!**

**Thank you for reading and for your kind reviews. I appreciate them more than I can say.**

**As you can see, I'm starting to figure out alliances and such. I know that not every character has been introduced yet, but if you have any alliances in mind then just PM me and I'll contact the creators of the characters and get things sorted out!**

**Also, if you have any concerns about how I've portrayed your characters then please let me know, but be nice about it; I'm still learning and growing as a writer (quick reminder that I am only fourteen)! A rather harshly worded PM has knocked my confidence a little, but I've tried my best to adhere to the forms. I always get anxious just after posting a chapter about how it will be received, but I think that's just something that comes with writing other people's characters in general.**

**Thanks again, **

**Nemmie. :)**


	8. 07 - Train Rides II

**07- Train Rides II  
**

* * *

Dido Harell (14).  
District Three Male.

* * *

Dido and Strada have been pressed to the window for the last ten minutes, marvelling at the sight of the Capitol in the distance. The buildings are absolutely huge, pristine towers of polished white marble. It's better than Dido could have ever thought it would be; of course he'd seen the clips of it during the reaping video, and pictures of some of the buildings in his textbooks, but nothing compares to actually seeing it in person. It's breathtaking and so different to District Three that it's hard to believe they're on the same Earth.

"It's bigger than I thought it would be," Dido breaks the silence, pressing one hand to the glass as he and Strada stare out, mouths partially open and eyes wide. He looks to his district partner. "What do you think?"

"Dad always said it was grand, but..." she trails off. "I didn't think it would be like _this. _I wish we weren't here to die."

"Yeah," Dido half-laughs. "The circumstances kind of suck."

Strada smiles at that, peeling herself away from the window. She sits down at the table, opposite their escort who doesn't even acknowledge her. Dido doesn't quite know how to feel about the girl, on one hand, she was the mayor's kid, born into privilege and wealth that he couldn't help but be jealous of, but on the other, she was nice to him. He'd expected some sort of snob, but she wasn't at all. Could he trust her? Most definitely not—they were going to be each other's enemies in a week—but at least she was somewhat good company.

He finally manages to pull himself away from the view when they enter a tunnel, with no view left to marvel at. The overhead lights flicker on, and Dido finds himself over by the food, picking at a pastry.

"We'll be there soon," their escort, Honey, says abruptly. "Now, remember what I told you about manners. You are to be polite and respectful to your prep team and stylist; they are only trying to help you look presentable."

"We know," Dido nods.

"Well, some of you district kids don't," Honey sniffs. "I was just confirming it with you. It's going to take a long time."

Dido shares a glance with Strada.

"We know," Dido repeats.

Strada stands up, yawning. "I'm going to go and take a quick nap," she says, looking to Dido. "See you in the Capitol, I guess."

"See you," he waves and takes the chance to excuse himself to his room as well. Honey doesn't say anything as he leaves, but he's not sure that he wants her to. She's been nothing but rude to the two of them since they got on the train and it's only a matter of time until one of them snaps at her.

But then, he guesses, at least they'll live on in her stupid stories she likes to tell about past tributes being disrespectful. From dinner last night, he feels like he knows Abraham from two years ago as well as he knows his friends.

He crawls under the covers once he's in his room, staring up at the ceiling. He's exhausted and terrified, a horrible feeling at the pit of his stomach. Dido knows that he's wished a lot of times that his life was different, that his father wasn't the district drunk and his mother didn't force his sister to do unspeakable things just so they could have money, but he didn't mean it to all end like this. He didn't mean for the change in his life to be that he's a tribute in the Hunger Games.

But here he is, nearly at the Capitol, with his partner being the mayor's daughter of all people.

He tries his hardest to fix his friends' lives, to cheer them up when they're upset, but nobody can do that for him now. He knows that Olivine and Xander could probably help him out with strategies, and although they wouldn't be able to help in that respect, Gwinny and Erier would provide the much-needed optimism to try and lighten up the situation a little bit.

Dido had tried his hardest last night at dinner, but Strada was the only one to laugh at his jokes. That had made him feel a little bit better because all she'd been doing since they got on the train was crying. Honey had just held up her chin and pursed her lips, and his and Strada's mentors remained set in their misery.

He guesses that there are just some things that he can't fix.

But this is the one time that he doesn't feel as guilty for focusing on himself. Because, hell, if he's going to be dead in a week then what's really the point in trying to cheer up his mentor? He'd love to, but how is he supposed to fight in the Games when he can barely keep tears back whenever he thinks about going into the arena?

There's a soft knock at his door, pulling him from his thoughts, and he calls out a soft "come in."

"Hey," Strada greets him, hovering in the doorway. "Uh, feel free to say no 'cause you might have your own plans after watching the reapings, and I know this is kind of sudden but do you want to be allies?"

Dido sits up. "Yeah," he nods. "Definitely."

"Cool," She says, smiling slightly. "That's cool. Thanks. I'm, uh, going to actually sleep now."

"Have a good nap."

And then she leaves, and just like that Dido has at least one ally. He hadn't really paid too much attention last night when they had actually sat down and watched the reapings, too caught up in his own thoughts, but his plans were just to ally with everybody that he could. He's just glad that Strada asked him.

That means he's doing something right, right?

And if Strada will ally with him, maybe other people will. He'll have to speak to her about it of course, but it's unlikely she would deny extra allies. It's not exactly if the two of them are big players in these Games.

But maybe they could be if they're lucky and if they get the right allies.

It doesn't all have to be bleak.

They _could _have a chance. Surely Strada's dad earns enough money to send them at least one sponsor gift during the course of the Games, and if they play everything right they could probably gain a few sponsors through the interviews.

As the train screeches to a halt and the clamour of reporters can be heard from the platform, Dido doesn't feel as bad as he did at the reaping.

He has hope, even if it's just a little, and he intends to pass that on.

* * *

Willow O'Rourke (17).  
District Eleven Female

* * *

Willow has learned one thing on this train ride, and that is that she _does not _like her district partner. He's rude and entitled and whilst she'd never say any of that to him, she at least thinks it over dinner.

She spends the rest of the night and most of the morning in her room, leaving for meals and snacks, but largely just wanting some time to herself. She has plenty of time to try and meet allies and please her mentor with skills that she's learned during training, and hopefully plenty of time to steer clear from Javier.

He means that her original plan of trying to ally with her district partner is out of the window, because there's no way that she can see them working together. He'd fit in more with the careers, probably. At least in terms of arrogance.

She just wants to go home. She should be helping her mother right now, watering the plants, helping make a salve or even helping Plumm with his homework before he runs off to school. She shouldn't be holed up in a bedroom on a train.

And there's so much pressure from everyone; her mentor, her escort, the Capitol, her family, and sometimes it seems crushing. When she was watching the reapings last night she could feel everything piling atop of her as she watched the career get reaped, kids who have trained for this exact moment, kids who know everything they have to do in order to get sponsors and to please the Gamemakers.

She wants to do that too, but she just doesn't know how.

The support of the Capitol will mean a lot to her in the arena, after all, so if she wants to get anywhere then she has to please them. And it's daunting but she has time. Maybe not as much as she would like, but at least she wasn't being thrown completely in the deep end.

Willow settles into one of the armchairs in her room, pulling her knees to her chest as she unclips her necklace and stares down at the sprig of rosemary encased in the quartz.

She can still remember her mother's excitement when Willow successfully grew the plant on her own. She remembers them taking the sprig and her mother mentioning the idea of making it into a necklace.

In the arena, there had better be plants and herbs. Ones that she can use to help herself and her possible allies. That's all that she really knows; she can't wield a weapon but she's handy with a mortar and pestle. And though she won't have one in the arena, she's sure that she can rustle up a makeshift one. That makes her feel at least somewhat better, because it's a skill that most of the other tributes probably won't have.

She's watched too many Games where tributes have succumbed to infections in places rich with healing herbs and plants that they could have made into a salve. And it's always sad when that happens because it's such a waste of life. Well, the entire Games are a waste of life, but there were so many tributes with potential to go farther who died to something preventable.

But even so, her skill doesn't promise her anything. After the reaping, she'd promised her mother and brother that she'd come home. She hugged Plumm tighter than she'd ever done before, promising that she wouldn't be away for long, she'd told her mother that she'd be back to help out with the plants and Plumm in next to no time. That once she won, everything would go back to normal.

But is that possible when the only skill she has is growing plants and turning them into medicine? A valuable skill, sure, but nothing against the sword-wielding and bloodthirsty careers.

Willow takes a deep breath, stokes her thumb against the quarts of her necklace and tries to calm the anxiety raging in the pit of her stomach.

Her mother always says that she's too nervous for her own good, and she'd inclined to agree. Although she thinks that her mother might cut her some slack in this situation considering that she's officially a tribute in the Games.

Still, she's not going to be of use to anyone if she can't get her heart to stop racing and hands to stop shaking.

"Willow?" There's a quiet knock on her door accompanied by her mentor's, Rhubarb's, voice. "We'll be in the Capitol in around five minutes."

"Okay," she calls back and her voice is audibly shaking. She takes another deep breath, and tries to concentrate when she then speaks. "I'll be out in a minute."

That was a little bit better, but she has to compose herself a little more before she leaves her room. She has the blinds pulled down in her room, but she knows that the platform will be crowded with Capitolites trying to get their first glimpses of the tributes. and Willow isn't naive enough to think that they're going to give her the slack Rhubarb is giving her about her nervousness. They'll strike her out immediately, write her down on their cards as a bloodbath. It'll be gossiped about on their talk shows and although she doesn't think she'll ever be able to gain the confidence in the next few days to ever tune into one, she doesn't feel good about actively knowing they'll just laugh at her.

She already nearly broke down at the reapings, and although that's justified, she knows that it means they'll be watching her extra carefully. Whilst she's annoyed at herself for it, she can't change it. All Willow can do now is try her best to please and she's not going to do that if she's a mess.

Rhubarb knocks again, and Willow rises from her chair. She pockets her necklace so that it's easier for her to clutch in her palm without anyone seeing, and opens the door. The other woman smiles at her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

As they approach the lounge car, she can still hear Javier moaning about how unfair it was that he was reaped.

"It's going to be overwhelming," Rhubarb tells her as they get ready to leave the train. "But it'll be over soon, alright? Just keep your eyes forward and don't answer anything that they ask you."

"Alright," Willow nods, shuffling from foot to foot as the train starts to slow down. The quarts in her pockets starts to dig into her hand from how hard she's holding it.

When the doors slide open, Willow sees what Rhubarb means about it being overwhelming. There are noises and cameras everywhere. The anxiety is back in the pit of Willow's stomach, but she keeps her chin up as she steps off of the train and towards the looming tribute tower.

* * *

Alliances:

Careers: Rayyan, Athena, Masone, Valentine, Hennessy & Circe  
D3 pair: Dido & Strada  
D12 pair: Arthur & Bijou

* * *

**So it's been a while, and I'm so sorry for that. Long story short, my adoption fell through and now I'm back in the foster care system for the foreseeable future. It sucks, but it's not the end of the world I guess. Coinciding with the start of school, it means hasn't been easy for me to write, and so this chapter has taken an awfully long time for me to write even though it only features two tributes instead of the promised six.**

**Basically, I needed something to get me back into writing this story, and a six-tribute POV chapter was just too overwhelming. But I didn't want a Capitol chapter until after the chariot rides, since I want to get through introducing the tributes as quickly as possible. I know that in other stories the tributes have been introduced by now and I'm really sorry for dragging it out like this.**

**The next chapter should be the parade prep, introducing the other four tributes, though, so stay tuned!**

**Both Dido and Willow were a pleasure to write, though, and I hope that I have done them justice in this chapter. I know I'm a little rusty, and it is currently 2AM for me as I have just finished writing the chapter, so I apologise if parts don't make sense. I have re-read and edited it to the best of my ability, but I will go over it sometime tomorrow after school. I'll also respond to PMs in that time; I'm not ignoring you I promise!**

**Thank you so much for all of the support for this story so far, and for sticking around even though I have been terrible at updating. I'm going to head to bed now, but I appreciate all of you so much! Thank you!**

**Nemmie :)**


	9. 08 - Parade Prep

**08 – Parade Prep**

* * *

Leo Heavenwind (17).  
District 5 Male

* * *

He really doesn't know what to think about his prep team yet.

They've barely said a word to him since they met, speaking only to introduce themselves to him. Although he can hear them whispering away behind the curtain, things that he can only assume are bad things about him since they won't say them to his face.

They've left him alone for now, although he can hear them whispering, and he sits up on the metal table, absent-mindedly swinging his legs.

He wonders what his costume is going to be. Undoubtedly something related to power, because after all that's what Five is all about. He just doesn't know _how _it's going to relate to power, but he's curious.

"You'll find out soon enough," he mutters to himself as he waits.

He wonders what the others' costumes will be. The Seven pair will more than likely be trees, they have been for years, and wouldn't it be funny if the Ten pair were dressed in cow costumes? He doubts that that will happen, but if it did it would definitely stand out. Maybe not in the way that they stylist wants, though.

"We need to wash your hair another time," a voice behind him makes him jump and he turns to face his prep team. "Maybe hose you down again. I don't think you're quite ready."

Leo really doesn't think he's that dirty, but he lets them do it anyway without complaint. He doesn't even want to imagine the time it will take for the kids from Twelve; he gets told they're always covered in coal dust.

"Is there anything else you need to do?" He asks once they've finished what is now their third hose off. He just wants to walk around the room, honestly. He's been sat still for far too long.

"No. Your stylist will be through in a minute."

Leo hops off the table when they disappear, packing around the room with his arms crossed over his chest. He's not going to lie; he still hasn't processed all of this yet. He's in the Capitol about to be in a parade to help him get sponsors that may or may not save his life in a battle between both nature and a group of other kids.

It's a big thing to try and wrap his head around.

When his name was called, that was the first time he'd ever been completely still in his life. Everything just went cold. His mind was blank.

It was one of the worst feelings, being rooted to the spot. And when he finally snapped out of it all eyes were on his, waiting for him to move. And then Ever had hugged him and everything started again and he had to make his way to the stage and stare out across the district. Now here he was, in the Capitol—a place that he never thought he'd see—it all sounds a little crazy to him, and he half expects an alarm to go off or his mom to come wake him up for school.

For once in his life, he actually wishes for it. He'd much rather be in school than here.

"Leo," He spins around when his name is called, his gaze falling on a dark-skinned man with mint green hair and equally ridiculously coloured contacts. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Dionysus, your stylist."

"Like the god of wine?" Leo asks, shaking Dionysus' hand.

"Yeah," the man laughs. "Like the god of wine."

And half an hour later, dressed in his costume, Leo is definitely sure that the man had one glass too many of wine whilst designing his costume. It's worse than dressing the Ten tributes up as cows.

He and his partner are _wind turbines_.

He hates it.

How is he supposed to get sponsors dressed like this? They're going to be a mockery to the entirety of Panem.

And it's not like he doesn't like being in the spotlight, because he does, but he doesn't want it to be for _this. _A good costume, sure, a high training score, decent interview. Anything but this.

There's a slim possibility that it could actually be a good thing. After all, they'll make their mark even if it is because they have the worst costumes in the entire parade. If he can just keep it up and actually get a good training score then he'll be someone they remember.

Someone who, when things get rough in the arena, have people on his side. Because the sponsors might not remember those with costumes that blend in, and those that stay hidden in the arena. Not that he won't, at least for a little while, but when things come to it he needs to be prepared to fight.

Maybe this could help Leo with that. Maybe standing out is a good thing in this case, no matter what the reason.

Well, he hopes so. Because otherwise he's screwed.

* * *

Smith Bunyan (18).  
District Seven Male.

* * *

Was this how Smith saw his future? Not exactly.

Never in a million years would he have dreamt of himself dressed up as a lumberjack about to be paraded in front of hundreds of thousands of bloodthirsty Capitolites. Life's surprises aren't always great.

He just wishes that he didn't have to leave his mom behind. She's not only possibly losing her child, but her assistant and the sole earner of the household too. The districts aren't really accommodating of those with disabilities, and, unfortunately, someone who can't see isn't going to be able to wield an axe out on the tree farms or logging compounds.

All that Smith can hope is that someone will help her out and that he'll be home quick enough so that it's not too much of an issue. It'll be better once he's a victor; they'll have a nice house, and he won't have to work and they'll be able to spend more time together.

He can hole up there when the Games aren't on, and hire someone to help his mom whilst he's off mentoring and then return to his life of solitude. Smith has never really been one for having a bunch of friends, but he doesn't really think that's a bad thing. Less disappointment, less betrayal.

His mentor, Paul, hadn't been pleased with his relative silence. Whilst Teak, his district partner, had been sat talking with her mentor in the lounge, Smith had locked himself in his bedroom and the most interaction they'd had was Paul asking him to come out.

Smith hadn't responded; he didn't need to sit down and talk strategies or allies. He had a plan by the time he'd stepped foot on that stage.

The only threat to him are the Careers. The outer district kids don't look like they'd be able to lift a sword even if they try. The pairs from Eight and Ten are almost certainly bloodbath material, along with the pair from Three. The Careers would probably go after them in the bloodbath, after all they don't care who they kill. Only that they have a body count, and why not go for the easier kills first? The ones that they know they can pull off.

As long as he lays low during training they won't see him coming.

But maybe he should let them get some of the younger kids first. Smith knows that he has to kill to get out of there and back to his mom, but that doesn't mean that he has to be a complete monster. He supposes that there's a saving grace in his mom being blind; at least she doesn't have to see what he's going to have to do.

Because if it somehow comes down to him and the little Twelve or Eight girls he's going to do what he has to do. He won't take pleasure in it, he won't brag about it like the Careers would, but he has to go home. And his mom will hear about it, he's sure, but that's not as bad as watching him do it.

She still won't be happy with him, Smith knows that much, because killing someone is a despicable act but she'll know that he had to do it. If he doesn't then how is he going to get back home? Out there are victors with no kills to their name, but he doesn't think he's going to be one of them. That's reliant on too many factors that he can't guarantee. That, or sheer dumb luck.

So far, Smith's luck hasn't been so great so he isn't going to get his hopes up.

It'd be nice, really nice, if something other than him or the Careers took out most of the other tributes. A raging forest fire, a flood, some particularly bloodthirsty mutts, but he doubts that it will happen. Those Games never sit well with the Capitolites; they want to see the tributes take each other out. It's sick.

So he doesn't think that he'll get away without fighting, and he needs to be prepared.

He sits up straight in his chariot as they're waiting for the parade to start, not bothering to mingle like some of the others were. He'd briefly seen Teak when he'd first left his stylist, but he has no idea where she is now. Probably making allies. He hopes that she does good in the Games, he likes her well enough.

But having allies doesn't fit into his plan of getting home as soon as possible.

So he stays sitting in his chariot, observing the others around him. And when his gaze falls on the Careers who, judging by some of their expressions, seem to be arguing, he smiles. Perhaps he won't need to bring them down; they'll do it themselves.

* * *

Valencia "Val" Salvadore (17).  
District Six Female.

* * *

Val's glad that her hangover was sorted before coming into this hall. Whatever pill Peaches had given her on the train was some sort of miracle cure, and Val has already made a not to take as much back from the Capitol as she can when she hopefully goes home.

The boy from her district, Lex, sits in the chariot with his arms crossed. He's been less than sociable the entire train ride, although she supposes that it's justified if his claims of being rigged into the Games are true. He's nice enough, though, but she has a feeling they'll have to get to know each other more before

Their costumes don't exactly sweeten the matter either; Train conductor outfits. Again. The Six tributes have been wearing these for as long as Val can remember. So, judging by that and Five's wind turbine costumes in front of them, Val assumes that the stylists are just not having a good year.

"I'm going to go talk to some people," Val murmurs, half to Lex and half to herself. The boy says nothing as she climbs out of the chariot, gravitating towards the lower half of the hall where the outer districts seem to have gathered.

The boy from Twelve is giving his little partner a piggyback ride, jogging laps around the chariot, the pair of them dressed in matching costumes Val's sure is supposed to resemble lumps of coal. The boy from Eleven is standing with his back to the wall, arms crossed similar to her district partner, although with a deeper scowl on his face. The girl from Eight is arguing with someone who Val assumes is her stylist.

But it's someone sniffling catches most of her attention, and she turns to the Ten chariot where the little girl is wiping away tears as she sits alone.

"What's wrong?" Val asks, climbing into the chariot beside the girl.

"They took my token," the girl sniffs. "It's the only thing I have from home and now it's gone."

"They took mine too," Valencia says. "But it's not for long. Just until they review it, kid. You'll have it back by tomorrow morning, I'm sure," the girl looks a little more relieved. "What was it?"

"My mama gave me her necklace," she says. "What was yours?"

"My favourite guitar pick," Val says. "It's multi-coloured, and really cool."

"My brother Solomon plays the guitar," the girl perks up a little. "And Elsie-Jo, Ruby-Ann, Sarah-Louise and I play the piano! Papa plays the organ at church, too."

"That's cool!" Val grins. "I've never played the piano, but I've always wanted to try."

"You can if you win," the girl says. "You can play all of the instruments you want then."

"Yeah," Val nods. "That's true." She doesn't add on that it'll be a slim chance; the girl is only being nice. "But I think I'll be more focused on getting my music out there at first. Then, once I'm famous, I can learn more instruments."

"That sounds like a good plan," the girl smiles. "Oh!" she holds out her hand. "I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Nora-Raine. From Ten, but you more than likely already knew that."

"I guessed it, yeah, the cowgirl costume is a little bit of a giveaway," Val chuckles. "I'm Valencia, from Six but you can call me Val."

"What is your costume supposed to be?" Nora-Raine asks. "It doesn't look like transport."

"I'm a train conductor," Val tips her hat. "Like someone that oversees all of the things on the train that doesn't involve actually driving it."

"Oh, okay," Nora-Raine nods. "That makes sense, I guess. Well, you look good in it. You'll definitely get sponsors."

"Hopefully," Val says. "I'm sure you will too. You look adorable."

"Thank you," she smiles, then shrugs. "Maybe I will, but they sponsor the older tributes before the younger ones."

"That's true, but it doesn't mean that nobody will sponsor you," Val smiles. "You could be better than everybody else in this room and they wouldn't even know it."

Nora-Raine laughs. "Also true, but I don't think I'm better than anybody in this room."

"I'm sure you are," Val says. "And if you aren't then that's fine too, we've got three days after all."

"I guess so."

"Three days to learn some skills, and make some friends," Val nudges Nora-Raine lightly. "What do you say we ally?"

"Really?" The girl's eyes widen as she turns to Val. Val nods, and the next thing she knows Nora-Raine has thrown her arms around her neck in possibly the tightest hug Val's ever had. "Thank you!" She grins as she pulls away. "Thank you."

"It's no problem," Val laughs. "And we can find more people during training, too. I'm sure we can get some others."

"We could make an alliance bigger than the Careers!" Nora-Raine says eagerly. "I can ask Atkins when he gets here if he'll join. I don't know if he will, but I can ask."

"That'd be great," Val nods. "I don't know if my partner will join either, but I'll ask him as well."

"Then that only leaves three until we're bigger than the Careers," Nora-Raine says. "I'm sure we can find three more people."

"Almost definitely," Val says, looking around the room.

She doesn't know if she's made a wise choice or not, allying with Nora-Raine, but she doesn't want to dwell on it. Val finally has a friend to talk to about her music, even if that friend is a fourteen year old girl from Ten who she only met ten minutes ago.

* * *

Masone "Bigboy" Stone (18).  
District Two Male.

* * *

His golden suit of armour and Valentine's Hestia get up are definitely some of the better costumes in this year's parade, that's for sure, Masone thinks as he looks around the room. But it makes sense that they would get better costumes as the Career pack, because they're the ones that everybody is going to be watching. The sponsors especially.

The pair of them arrive in the hall a little before everybody else, hanging around their chariot as they wait for the others to get there.

The first pair to arrive are Circe and Hennessey from Four and the first thing that Masone notices is that their stylists seem to _love_ glitter. But other than the blue paint and glitter, their costumes are nice. Circe's aquamarine dress matches Hennessey's tunic.

When the pair from One join them, Athena covered in shimmering gold body paint wearing armour almost similar to Masone's, and Rayyan dressed as a diamond, it's clear by looking around the room that they for sure have the best costumes. At least theirs weren't as matchy as some of the other districts, and at least they weren't completely typical of their districts.

"So," Rayyan says, looking around at them all. "This is the fabled Career pack."

"In all of its glory," Hennessey says. "Although, I hear that it wasn't supposed to be you this year."

"It wasn't," Rayyan says, straightening up. "But I'm here now, and I'm just as good as Luster or any other chosen person."

"If you're so good why weren't you selected?" Athena asks bluntly, raising an eyebrow.

"What you guys think about me doesn't matter," Rayyan sighs, holding up his hands. Masone is inclined to disagree, because it's a miracle that Rayyan is even in the Career pack right now, but he keeps quiet. "Because there's nothing we can do to change it and six selected volunteers or not, we're still the Career pack."

"He's not wrong," Circe shrugs, cutting off Athena who had opened her mouth presumably to argue back. "And arguing isn't going to solve anything. If we want to get anywhere in these Games we have to work together, you all realise that?"

"We weren't arguing, I was just saying that—" Athene starts and Masone rolls his eyes.

If this is going to be what the pack were going to be like the entire time then he's glad that his plan is to get away from them as soon as he can. Of course they don't know that, and he's not going to tell them—pretending to be with them will benefit him in the long run—but he wants to win and if the group keep bickering like this then he's not going to be any better off sticking with them.

They'll more than likely eliminate themselves before he has to worry about them. At this rate, anyway. He leans back against the chariot, eyes flicking between Athena and Rayyan who definitely don't seem to get along. Was this what they were like on the train? Masone feels bad for their mentors.

Well, he only has to deal with it until the first or second day in the arena.

Whilst the arguing is still going on, Masone eyes up the other tributes. All of them besides the Seven boy shouldn't even be able to land a blow on him. Not only does he want to win, but he wants the highest kill count in the Games, so he's lucky that the pool of tributes is mostly pathetic. He can't see many of them making it past the bloodbath.

But the ones who do? He'll have fun taking them out, one by one.

They won't expect him. won't see him coming if he does it right. They'll assume he's with the Careers, that he's camping out at the cornucopia, right until he catches them.

"Look, I'm not arguing with you any more, Rayyan," Athena's raised voice pulls Masone from his thoughts. "You forget that you're not the only one here who trained or knew Luster. He worked hard for the spot and you stole it, simple as. I don't agree with you being here, but the others clearly don't agree with me so let's just agree to disagree. We have more pressing issues."

"Finally," he hears Valentine murmur to his right.

"You brought it up," Rayyan quips, but thankfully Athena doesn't respond.

"So," Hennessey says. "Every Career pack has a leader, right?"

Rayyan starts to open his mouth, but Athena shakes her head at him, cutting him off. "Absolutely not," she says. "I'd rather break tradition and ally with the girl from Twelve than have someone who isn't a selected volunteer lead the pack. If it's going to be a One tribute leading this pack, then it should be me. I've worked hard for this and..."

Masone tunes out the bickering, once again glad that he won't be hanging around them for too long. Three days of training might push him to his limits, but he's hoping that they'll mellow out once they're actually in the arena and fighting for their lives.

After all, he wants them to be focused when they're in the arena, otherwise they're not going to be too much of a challenge to kill and easy kills aren't as fun.

* * *

Alliances:

Careers: Rayyan (D1M), Athena (D1F), Masone (D2M), Valentine (D2F), Hennessey (D4M) & Circe (D4F).  
D3 pair: Dido & Strada  
D12 pair: Arthur & Bijou  
Musical gals: Val (D6F) & Nora-Raine (D10F)

* * *

**Aaaaaand that's everyone!  
**

**Finally, finally, everyone has been introduced. In the next chapter, we'll check back in with our favourite Head Gamemaker for the actual parade and then onto the training days. I'm excited!**

**Now we've seen everyone, PM me alliance requests if you wish and I shall try my best to make it happen! Speaking of, what do you think of the four alliances so far?**

**I also want to thank everyone for their well wishes and support about my situation. I want to make it clear that I was not looking for sympathy or pity, I just wanted to let you guys know what was going on. It's not something I'm ashamed of, so I didn't want to keep it hidden. **

**I hope that you are all doing well and that you are having a great day/night!**

**-Nemmie :)**


	10. 09 - Tribute Parade

**09 - Tribute Parade (and an overdue reunion)**

* * *

Hydna Dagworth (23).  
Head Gamemaker.

* * *

"Remember when I used to beg you and Mom for tickets to this every year?" Hydna laughs to her father, leaning over the edge of the private box they were going to be sharing with President Eira for the parade. "It was my biggest dream as a kid to attend."

"I remember alright," Scyllis smiles. "We tried to tell you that it was impossible to get tickets, but you got your hopes up every year."

"Mom would too," Hydna says, sitting back in her seat. "She'd be with you when you couldn't get the tickets, but she'd still try and convince herself that somehow you'd found some. Every single birthday when you gave me my card she'd watch for the tickets to fall out..."

Her dad reaches over, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "She'd be so proud of you, H. All she wanted to do was see you hap—"

The sound of footsteps cut him off, and Hydna quickly clears her throat and wipes at her eyes. She turns in her seat to see Eira, standing up as the woman reaches the top of the stairs. Just behind her is the District Eight girl's sister, who looks between Hydna and her father with pure hatred in her eyes. If the girl could talk, Hydna is sure that the box would be filled with all sorts of vile language

Not that they don't deserve it.

"It's a pleasure seeing you two again," Eira smiles, taking her seat. Hydna and Scyllis sit down. "Excited for the parade?"

"Of course," Scyllis nods. "It's a highlight. And we get the best seats in the house."

"Hear that, Gwendolyn?" Eira turns around, looking at the young avox. "Best seats in the house. I'm sure Lorraine will be happy to see you."

The avox, of course doesn't respond, but Hydna can see the girl's hands shaking. Hydna is conflicted; she's a criminal after all, both her and her sister, but isn't this going a little too far? Isn't it enough to cut out her tongue?

An announcement echoes across the parade centre, announcing that the parade will be starting soon and Hydna tries to distract herself with that. It's hard to think over all of the noise from the Capitolites anyway, and so she keeps her eyes focused on the chariots that start to roll out.

District One's tributes aren't dressed matching like many of the other districts, but they look lovely all the same. Athena is covered entirely in shimmering gold paint, along with armour and her district partner, Rayyan, is dressed as a diamond. They smile and wave to the crowd, and the Capitolites holler, throwing flowers and all sorts down at them.

District Two receives just as much attention, if not more by the way that Masone flexes in his golden armour. Valentine doesn't look fazed at the noise beside him, smiling and waving as she was undoubtedly trained to do, dressed as Hestia the Ancient Greek goddess. Hydna can practically sense the excitement of the sponsors as they eye up the first four tributes. It's definitely a good year for the career pack.

Little Strada of Three has her hands clamped over her ears as the chariot rolls out, prompting a collective laugh, both her and her partner dressed up as circuit boards. Dido looks a little more at ease beside her, waving like he'd observed the careers doing. There's a little less fanfare for them, but it soon ramps up when the Four chariot is rolled out.

Circe and Hennessey are both covered in glitter, and streaks of blue paint meant to resemble waves. Circe looks stunning in her aquamarine dress, a net of rope covering it, and Hennessey's tunic matches the colour perfectly. Circe catches a rose and holds it high. The Capitol roars.

There's audible confusion when the Five chariot appears, sporting two wind turbines. Leo seems to take it all in his stride; laughing and waving as the chariot moves forward, but Sam looks less than pleased.

"A hard year for Five?" Scyllis calls over the noise of the crowd.

"Looks like it," Hydna snorts.

"Better than last year's hideous mess," President Eira shrugs. "At least it relates back to the district this time."

Six appears, and the pair are dressed as train conductors. Val laps up the attention, blowing kisses to the crowd whilst Lex stands stiffly, his arms at his side looking as if he'd rather be anywhere else. But Hydna supposes that she can't blame him; she wouldn't want to be in his position either.

In the Seven chariot, Smith towers over his district partner, dressed fittingly as a lumberjack. He stands awkwardly, giving a few stiff waves here and there. Teak looks amazing in a green dress with gold lace atop it shaped like leaves. She doesn't seem uncomfortable as she engages with the crowd, and Hydna's willing to be that she's gaining a few sponsors already.

The Eight chariot rolls into view, and the avox edges her way to the front of the box, her hands gripping the railing so hard that her knuckles turn white. In the chariot, Stitch stands, dressed as a thimble, cheeks blazing red and his eyes focused forward. Lorraine sits, arms crossed over her chest, clearly not happy about the patchwork dress she's been forced to wear, but it doesn't take long for her to glance upwards and notice her sister. Her face pales, but then her gaze flickers over to Hydna, Scyllis and Eira. Then, she's standing and her hand is raised in a rather crude gesture before she crosses her arms again and sits back down.

The avox turns to them with a smug smile on her face. Hydna looks to her right, shocked, and the President looks furious, reaching forward to pull the avox away from the front of the box. That will _definitely_ be cut from all of the reruns.

But behind them, Arzan is dressed as a mill and Milla beside him is wearing a dress made from wheat, along with a woven crown and braided hair extensions. Painted on her skin is different types of grain, shimmering under the spotlights. If they're nervous, it's impossible to tell, both of them waving and smiling as they move forward.

Nora-Raine in Ten's chariot looks adorable dressed as a cowgirl. It's easy to tell that she's uncomfortable, but she waves like she sees the other tributes doing. Beside her, in his bullrider costume, Atkins looks close to a breakdown. Somehow, though, he seems to be holding it together enough to stay upright.

Javier in Eleven's chariot looks as furious as the avox did when she first entered the box. Dressed as a giant watering can, there's another wave of laughter like there was when Five's costumes were revealed. Eira groans.

"I can already feel the headache his father is going to cause," she says, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I'll bet my phone is already ringing."

Beside Javier, Willow is dressed in a pair of dark green dungarees, a white shirt and a wreath of berries atop her head. Much like with the Ten girl, Hydna can clearly pick up on the girl's discomfort, but she tries her best to engage with the roaring crowd anyway.

In the last chariot, both Bijou and Arthur are dressed as lumps of coal. It's a nice change from all of the mining outfits, Hydna thinks. The pair of them are holding hands, and Bijou jumps up and down as she waves to the crowd. Hydna wonders if they knew each other before, but she's sure that subject would have come up at the reaping recap if they had. Whilst their alliance is cute, she can't see it lasting too long. With Arthur's deafness and Bijou's age, she won't be surprised if they both perish in the bloodbath.

The chariots roll to a stop, the Capitolites stop cheering, and President Eira steps forward, welcoming everyone to this year's Hunger Games.

The speech rings true; it is going to be the best Games yet, she's sure of it.

After all, her life depends on Eira's satisfaction.

* * *

Gwendolyn "Pup" Tencel (16).  
Avox.

* * *

Pup can't even put into words the rage that she feels towards President Eira and her gamemaking team. It really was a sick game to them, all of this, forcing her to watch as Blue is dragged into something she has no business being in. They take pleasure in it, in the fact that she can't talk back. That she's completely under their control whether she likes it or not, and Blue is too.

Watching her younger sister getting reaped was the worst. Eira's smug grin and Pup's helplessness. Seeing her in the parade only reinforced the sick feeling in Pup's stomach, although the middle finger was a nice touch from Blue and the look on Eira's and the gamemakers' faces was completely worth it.

The punishment might not be, but then again, what exactly are they going to do to her? She's already going into the arena.

Maybe it'll get pushed onto Pup, but she doesn't care. What more can they do, really? They've cut out her tongue and are sending her sister into the Games. There's nothing else that Pup holds dear, and physical punishments have never been much of a deterrent for either of the Tencel sisters.

If they were, then maybe they wouldn't be in this situation.

Pup sits up, shrugging off the thin blanket she sleeps with. Blue is somewhere in this tower. Sneaking out of the avox sleeping quarters without getting caught is something that she's good at, and she _needs _to hold her sister.

She has no doubts that she'll end up stationed on Eight's floor at some point, so close to her sister yet not able to interact. But she can't let that be the only time she sees her before she goes into the arena.

There's always the option of sneaking into Blue's bedroom, but then comes the conundrum of what room belongs to her. Getting caught by a mentor or an escort means almost certainly that Pup won't get to see Blue at all. There will be more security, and she'll be kept farther away. She can't deal with that.

But where else is she meant to see her sister?

The roof. If she knows her sister then she knows that the girl will spend as much time as possible on the roof. It's quiet, away from everyone and Blue's always been fond of heights. It's practically the perfect place for her, or at least it would be if it wasn't in the Capitol.

Pup makes her way to the roof slowly, careful not to wake anyone up or alert any of the Capitol workers who haven't gone to bed yet. She takes a deep breath as she pushes open the door, expecting to see her sister leaning on the railing, staring out across the Capitol.

It's disappointing when she's met with nothing.

Maybe she doesn't know Blue as well as she thinks she does. What if something happened whilst she was gone and now Blue doesn't like heights—?

"I knew you'd come," a voice whispers behind her, and she turns to see Blue emerging from the shadows of the building. "I've been waiting since the parade ended. After my escort finished chewing me out, of course."

And then the pair of them are on the floor, clinging to each other as if their lives depend on it. Blue buries her face in Pup's shoulder, and Pup has to keep back tears as she holds her sister for what might be the last time.

"I've missed you," Blue says softly after a few minutes of pure silence, spent just trying to take in the fact that they were seeing each other again. "I'm sorry for not going with you. I should—we should both be avoxes. Together."

Pup shakes her head, gripping Blue's shoulders. She wishes she could talk, wishes that she could communicate. Of course, it's not Blue's fault; it's Pup's for not listening. Something bad was just outside the fence.

"I thought they would turn you into an avox," Blue continues. "So I—I tried to learn how to read so you could write to me," she slips a notebook from her pocket. "Remember Buttons?" Pup nods. "He taught me a little bit, but I'm not as good as the school kids. Well, maybe the youngest ones."

Pup takes the notebook. She's never been good at reading either, nor at writing. She was seven when they left school, so she doesn't know anything other than the basics. Blue hadn't even attended one class.

Pup's writing is sloppy, but she manages the three words she wants to write.

"I love you too," Blue says, wrapping her arms around Pup's neck. "If I die in there, Pup, don't do anything stupid. Don't try to avenge me."

_I won't, _Pup writes. But she can't promise.

If Blue dies she has nothing else to live for. Death isn't going be a consequence for her anymore. Eira and the gamemaking team... they already have targets on their back.

Blue is the only thing stopping her from acting.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. The parade itself is a little short, but there's only so many times I can describe tributes being uncomfortable and/or smiling and waving! To make up for the shortness, I added a little POV from Pup which I hope you guys liked. I wasn't sure if I was actually going to give her a POV in this story or not, or have everything happen from Blue's/others' POVs, but here we are!**

**I'm going to go ahead and say that I don't have an estimate for when the next chapter will be uploaded. It will be the first training chapter, and as such will be quite lengthy and will, therefore, take a while to write. My living situation is also a bit stressful and precarious right now, and I'm moving around a lot more than I thought I would and than I want, so it's possible I won't have access to a computer or the internet at times. Of course I'll try to get it up as soon as possible, but please understand that it may be a while. As much as I would love to update every time people PM me to, life comes first and I can't always drop everything to write and post a chapter because people want one. **

**I'll hopefully respond to PMs and alliance requests soon, as I know I'm _very_ behind on that. I'm not ignoring you, I promise. **

**As always, thanks for the support and for reading. I hope you guys have a good day/night!**

**Nemmie :)**


	11. 10 - Training Day I Part I

**10 - Training Day I Part I**

* * *

Strada Wells (13).  
_District Three Female._

* * *

For the first time since reaching the Capitol, Strada lets herself cry. She shouldn't, not now anyway, but the knock on her door ten minutes ago jolted her out of a nightmare and she can't keep the tears back.

It's wasn't the nightmare that most tributes have when they reach the Capitol. She could deal with those.

It was a nightmare that Gigi and Spark were beside her dad on the platform during the visit to Three on the Victory Tour. A nightmare that her real mom and brother were be erased by the intruders who didn't even come to say goodbye to her after she was reaped. It's something that she's terrified will actually happen; she'd tried to tell her dad when they were saying goodbye that she didn't want them there, but she could barely get the words out through her tears. It'd be a miracle if he understood her. Even if he did, he'll never say no to Gigi and Spark. Not like he does with her.

But even with everything that went on back in Three, Strada wishes that she was there now. She'd take an emotionally absent father and his shitty replacement family over this.

And it's not that she' scared of death; she truly isn't, but being paraded around beforehand and killed for the entertainment of others isn't the way that she wants to go.

Here she is, though, in the Capitol crying in her room whilst Honey pounds on the door, telling her that she's late for breakfast, and that she really isn't making a good impression right now. Strada resists the urge to snap back as she fights to get her tears under control, getting changed into the training uniform despite wanting nothing more than to just stay in bed.

As much as she hates the fact, she really doesn't have the time to sit and cry. Not if she wants to stand any chance at getting out of the arena alive.

Honey seems to give up after a few minutes, and now in relative peace, Strada moves into the bathroom where she rinses her face. It's still puffy, and quite clear that she's been crying but she can't find it within herself to really care. The sponsors aren't going to be in the training room, and she's sure that everyone has written herself off as a bloodbath already. There isn't really much she can do to damage her reputation even more.

It's a grim way of looking at it, but it's true. She'll just have to take them all by surprise during the Games.

She feels heavy as she leaves her room, like she did just after her mom and Isambard's deaths, and when she settles in her seat to eat breakfast in the little time she has left before they have to head down to training, Dido looks at her worriedly.

"I'm fine," she says to him. He doesn't look like he believes her, so she musters a small smile. "It was just a rough night, but it's fine now."

"You don't look like it," her district partner says, raising his eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

Strada nods, shovelling a forkful of scrambled eggs in her mouth. "I'm sure, don't worry."

They're one of the last pairs down at the training centre, and Strada's cheeks glow red when they're admonished by the head trainer for almost being late. Dido looks at the floor, shuffling his feet, and once the woman stops Strada whispers a quick apology to him for being the one out of her room late.

"It's fine," Dido shrugs. "When we're dismissed do you want to go and tie some knots?"

And Strada would rather do anything else in this room—after all, no one has been saved by a knot in any of the Games that she's watched—but she's still too drained to argue, and, really, do anything _but_ tie a knot. If Dido suggested they run laps or something, she might fall asleep halfway through the first.

So she just shrugs. "Yeah. I guess so."

"It'll be a good place to try and scope people out for an alliance," Dido whispers as the pair from Eight are the last to join them, and the head trainer starts her speech once she's finished telling them off. "And something we don't have to put too much effort into. I mean, it's eight in the morning. I'm not up for trying a weapon or anything just yet."

Strada nods. "Makes sense."

As soon as they're dismissed, the pair of them instantly make their way towards the knot tying station where the politely dismiss the trainer's help, and make quiet conversation as they observe the room.

"We'd be better off going for people our age, right?" Strada asks. "They'd be more likely to ally with us."

"I guess so," Dido says. "Who're you thinking of?"

Strada shrugs. "Girl from Eight, maybe? Or the Ten pair? There's a lot of choice."

"Which one of us is going to ask?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, walk up to them and ask if they want to join our alliance."

"You! You're older," Strada laughs. "They're going to take you more seriously than they'd take me."

"I don't mean to offend you," Dido smiles. "But I don't think anyone is going to take either of us seriously."

She shrugs, focusing on the rope she's looping. "You're not wrong, but I still think that we have a better shot if you ask," Because if even her own dad won't listen to her, what's going to make anyone in here to listen to her? "Anyway, maybe we should argue about this when we've actually decided who we're going to ask."

"We just did. The Eight girl and the pair from Ten—"

"Those were just suggestions," Strada says, pulling her knot tighter. She looks up for a second, glancing around for those that Dido had just mentioned. "Besides, don't we have to make sure they're skilled?"

"Are you?" Dido jokes.

Strada sticks her tongue out. "I can tie knots," she gestures to the rope. "You know what I mean, though. We can't just let people in because they ask."

"Why not?" Dido asks. "It's not as if we have much to offer. If we can get a big enough alliance, we can defeat the Careers."

"I don't know how much I believe that," Strada shrugs. "Safety in numbers and all that, but the Careers have been training their entire lives for this. We'll have, what, three days? Doesn't exactly make for any of us to turn into killing machine."

"I guess so," Dido shrugs and Strada sighs.

Who knew that figuring out who they wanted to ally with would be this hard? She hadn't had to think as much when just asking Dido.

* * *

Stitch Everett (12).  
_District Eight Male._

* * *

It's only been an hour and a half into training, but Stitch already wants to go back to his room. There's too many people, too many conversations, and he'd honestly rather be anywhere else. He's tried his best to stick close to Blue, to see whether or not she'd have an answer to the paper he'd slipped under her door last night, but she hasn't said anything.

He's just about to give up and head over to the mostly empty camouflage station when she scales down the climbing wall and approaches him, arm crossed.

"Do you have a reason for following me?" She asks. "Or are you just being creepy?"

He shakes his head at the last statement, slipping a notebook out of his pocket. Corduroy had begged him this morning to start using one to communicate, especially with other tributes.

"Did you get my note?" He scribbles, holding it up so she can see.

Her eyes scan it, again and again until she seems to understand what he's written.

"Yeah," she says finally, tilting her chin up. "But your handwriting was too bad. I couldn't read it."

Stitch doesn't quite believe that, but he doesn't press it. "Well," he writes, making sure to be neat. "Do you want to ally?"

Once again, Blue stares at the paper for longer than she should but eventually, she shrugs. "No," she says. "Nothing personal, though. Was that all?"

Stitch nods, and watched his district partner return to the climbing wall. He's not entirely sure what to do now. He'd been hoping that she'd ally with him out of some loyalty to the district or something, but obviously not. Although, he couldn't really blame her.

Slipping the notebook back into his pocket, Stitch continues over to the camouflage station where the boy from Ten is shying away from the instructor. He looks relieved when the instructor moves over to Stitch. It doesn't last long, though, since he gets frustrated at the lack of answers to the questions he's asking, and eventually just sits away from them.

Stitch observes the boy from Ten as well as he can without making it obvious. The other boy's gaze keeps flicking up to him, as well, and Stitch half expects the boy to run away when they make eye contact. He's so different to his district partner, who Stitch can hear laughing from the fire-making station, and he's reminded of himself and Blue in that respect.

But he doesn't have the confidence to actually say anything, as much as he wants to compliment the boy on his painting skills. So instead, he just sits in silence like he usually does and tries to focus on the paint he's swirling onto his _own _skin.

Maybe, if he makes it out of the bloodbath alive, he'll just paint himself and blend in even more than he already does. He's good at being silent after all; he can't really make any noise to alert people to his presences unless he's moving around, and if he just lays as still as he can then maybe he can somehow make it to the end of the Games.

Of course he knows that that's more than likely never going to happen, but he can dream. It's better than thinking of the alternatives, of course; he's dwelled on those too much since arriving at the Capitol.

He discovers that it's all fun and games to be at the camouflage station until you need to wash it all off. The paint is hard to get off, and he regrets waiting until lunch to start. The only plus is that the queue isn't that long since everybody has already served themselves.

Stitch takes a small plate of food, looking back at the Ten boy who still hasn't moved from the camouflage station. If Stitch had enough courage he'd go over and write in his notepad to see if the boy wants anything, but he doesn't so he just takes a seat at the table Blue's sitting at alone, sitting at the opposite end and keeping his gaze down on his food.

He returns to the camouflage station when he's done, peering still at the paint on the other boy's arm. He doesn't really have anything else to do, and they're relatively unbothered here. Blue is back on the climbing wall, sitting at the top of it, the Careers are hogging the weapon stations and the girl from Eleven is hovering off to the side of them, as if she wants to try her luck with a dagger but doesn't want to disturb them.

Stitch knows how that feels.

Although the Ten boy isn't the Careers. And if Stitch had the guts to ask Blue, who quite frankly scares him, to ally, he can at least write something. The boy doesn't have to answer if he really doesn't want to.

Stitch starts to edge the notebook out of his pocket.

But when the boy looks up, he pushes it back down.

It's okay, he tells himself, he has two days if he really wants to ask. He doesn't have to do it now.

He has time.

* * *

Arthur Ryan (18).  
_District Twelve Male._

* * *

'You _have_ to eat it!' Bijou signs, pushing the bowl towards him. 'I won the bet!'

'Couldn't you have chosen something else?' He signs, grimacing at the bowl of meat and rice that looks anything but appetising. 'What did the sign say it was?'

His tiny ally shrugs, and then disappears for a few seconds, coming back with the piece of card that had been propped up against the pot.

Chile con carne, he reads. He's never heard of that before, but it's clear to see why Bijou had picked it. Out of everything on that table, it definitely didn't look the best. But there he was thinking she wouldn't dare pick him something he didn't like, that she'd be nice and treat him to a pastry or something because his ego was already bruised from losing the bet.

It should have been an easy one for him; they'd been sat at the edible plants station for most of the morning. He should have been able to beat Bijou on a quiz. He hadn't been as distracted as she has been.

Somehow, though, the girl scored a whole five points more than him and now here she was forcing him to eat this stuff.

He mixes it around a little, stalling, but when Bijou signs to him again he decides to just get it over with and shoves in a mouthful.

The look of annoyance on Bijou's face when he actually enjoys it is something that makes him laugh. Too loud by the way that Bijou presses her finger to her lips, trying to fight back a smile, but it's not something that bothers him. He can't hear it.

He pauses between mouthfuls to sign one word to her: 'backfired.'

'I'm finding a new ally,' she fires back. 'It was nice knowing you.'

He laughs again, and she slumps forward onto the table, head on her arms as he finishes his food. He's not able to eat the whole bowl, since he'd had breakfast _and _another plate of food before this, and he inches the half-empty bowl towards her.

'Try a bit,' he signs after poking her on the shoulder to get her attention. 'Go on.'

'No way in hell,' she grimaces. 'Anyway, we should head over to the snares before anyone else gets it. You said you'd teach me how to make one.'

And it's true, he did. Snares are his speciality, and about the only thing that he has going for him in terms of being ahead of some of the tributes. It could save their asses many times over the course of the Games, meaning the difference between starving to death and living another day. Bijou needs to learn how to do it. He doesn't want to think about the circumstance that would lead to her having to set one without him, but it's a real possibility that she'll be without him, so he has no problem with teaching her.

They clean up their table before heading over, and Bijou waves away the instructor when he approaches.

Arthur sets about getting everything ready, and Bijou hangs onto every word that he signs. When he hands her the materials to build her own, she's not too far off.

'I wish we'd known each other before this,' she signs after a second failed attempt, catching him a little off guard. 'I don't want to have to stop being friends.'

'I wish I'd have known you before too, B,' he signs back. 'But this is just how it's happened.'

'Do you think we'll meet again in Heaven?' She asks after a brief pause. 'Even if you win and it takes forever?'

'Yeah, of course we will,' he signs. And he doesn't particularly believe in an afterlife but he's not about to tell her that. 'I'll wait for _you_ after _you _win.'

She smiles at that. 'Or we could do a Katniss and Peeta,' she says. 'But as friends.'

'Hm. Maybe,' he shrugs. 'But that didn't end well, kid.'

'I know,' she signs. 'But they got a few extra years out of it. I could hear Benjy's first word and see him walk. You could meet Brieuc. He's only a year older than you.'

'As good as that sounds, B, we should focus on the snares,' he feels bad for being so blunt, but he doesn't want her to start spiralling. Coming to term with death isn't easy, and especially not at twelve. Whilst he's sure there'll be tears at some point, he'd rather not on the first day of training when they have so much to learn. 'Do you want to try again?'

'Yeah,' she nods. And after a successful attempt, her spirits are back up. He coaxes her to make a few more, just until he's sure that she's got the hang of it, and then she's dragging him towards the fire making station that she swears is going to be fun.

'I bet that I can make a fire faster than you can,' she says once they've been given a demonstration by the instructor.

'Bet,' he nods, even if he's still not over losing the first one. 'Same rules as last time? Winner gets to pick something for the other to eat?'

'I hope you're not looking forward to dinner, Arthur.'

'Well, we both know how your selection worked out last time,' he smirks. 'So, game on.'

Bijou counts down, and the pair of them start scrambling to build their own fires. It's nice not to have to take all of this so seriously, he thinks, as they're competing. They're still learning, they're still making good use of their time, but they're not letting themselves fall into the despair that he can see on the faces of other tributes around them. It's not going to help them, after all. That's why he had to stop Bijou earlier.

He hopes that Twelve has a chance this year. They're disadvantaged, sure, but they're not completely useless. He'd say that, even despite his disability and Bijou's age, they're more equipped than the previous year.

But he can only hope.

After all, he'd love to see David and Daisy again, or, maybe even better, for Bijou to see her father and brothers again, but only time will tell. Fate is a cruel mistress, after all.

* * *

Alliances:

Careers: Rayyan (D1M), Athena (D1F), Masone (D2M), Valentine (D2F), Hennessey (D4M) & Circe (D4F).  
D3 pair: Dido & Strada  
D12 pair: Arthur & Bijou  
Musical gals: Val (D6F) & Nora-Raine (D10F)

* * *

**I'm back!**

**A mostly uneventful first part of training here. I didn't want anything _too _crazy just off the bat, and I got pretty lucky in the POVs that got chosen in just being able to mostly build up alliances, with the exception of Stitch and Atkins who aren't quite allies. **

**I was going to try and give everybody a POV during training, but I didn't want the chapters to be too long at this stage. They're hard to write, and I'd imagine quite hard to read. I want to save chunky chapters for the arena, when the good stuff starts happening. So, the way that this will be working is I will have two parts to every training day with three POVs each. The POVs will be picked with a random picker. The six who don't get POVs during training will be split between POVs during the training score reveal and interview prep. We'll be revisiting Hydna for the private sessions. **

**I know three POVs isn't a lot, but it just keeps things a lot more manageable for me right now, and means that I can get the chapters up faster.**

**I seem to have a habit of uploading chapters at stupid times for me (it's around 1:40AM right now), so I'm going to head to bed. I hope that you guys are all well.**

**There's also a poll on my profile for your favourite tributes so far. I'm aware that it can change throughout the story, and that we haven't seen too much of these guys, so I'm not tying anything to the results of the poll; I'm just curious of opinions!**

**Good night!**

**~Nemmie :)**

**(Oh, and P.S, over on the SYOT Alliance forum nominations are currently open for the SYOT awards. There are all sorts of amazing categories to nominate your favourite stories for, and I'd totally recommend you head over there and vote for any of the incredible authors in this community you feel deserve it)!**


	12. 11 - Training Day I part II

**11 – Training Day I Part II**

* * *

Leo Heavenwind (17).  
_District Five Male._

* * *

After a particularly filling lunch, Leo returns to the edible plants station. He's been there most of the morning, sat slightly off to the side whilst other tributes come and go. The Twelve pair had been there for a little while, but Leo doesn't know sign language, and he wasn't sure if it was a conversation that he could hop into.

He wants to learn something else, something to defend himself, but the Careers are once again spread out over all of the weapon stations and he doesn't want to bother any of them, so he just stays put. He'd seen them force other tributes off earlier. Maybe if he gets here early enough tomorrow he can have a go at a weapon, but for now he's not exactly acing the tests at this station. He keeps getting distracted, despite knowing that he needs to knuckle down and focus. Dying to a poisonous plant isn't something that he wants to happen; that'll be a death of his own stupidity, not an unpreventable death.

If he's going to die, he doesn't want it to be in a stupid way that people will laugh at.

"Hi!" He jumps at the voice, not having noticed anyone approaching. He turns around to see a young girl, her hand outstretched. "I'm Nora-Raine from Ten."

"Leo from Five," he says, shaking her hand. He remembers watching her reaping. "Nice to meet you."

"What are you doing?" She flops down beside him.

"Just reading," he says, angling his book towards her. "Trying to memorise all of these plants."

"Oh, cool," she smiles. "So... what's Five like?"

"It's alright," he shrugs. "I bet Ten's better, though. All of the open space must be great."

"It might be better but I don't know," Nora-Raine says. "I've never been to Five. But Papa says Ten isn't as good as it used to be. The Capitol have started buying out a lot of the land to turn them into factories and meat processing plants so people have to work for them. It's easier for the Capitol to collect quotas, then. He says it was better when everybody had their own farms."

_That figures_, Leo thinks. _The Capitol is greedy._ "So, do you have your own farm, or did the Capitol buy it from you?"

"We have our own," she grins. "Papa says he'd rather die than give his land over to the Capitol. You should see our chickens; we have _so _many!"

"I've never seen an alive chicken," Leo says. "But I bet they're cute!"

"Oh they are!" Nora-Raine exclaims. "They're the best! And ducklings are super cute, too. Actually, all the animals we have on the farm are!"

Leo chuckles. "Sounds like a great place."

"I wish more people could see it," the girl sighs. She pauses. "But I didn't come over here to talk to you about Papa's farm."

"What did you come over to talk about?"

"Well, my friend Val and I were wondering if you wanted to join our alliance. We're going to see if we can get more people than the Careers!"

Leo raises his eyebrows. "That's quite an ambition, kid," he says. "But sure, count me in."

It's not as if it could really go wrong. Sure, he doesn't know who the girl's friend is, but any allies are better than none. Besides, being from Ten and living on her parent's farm, Nora-Raine might have some skill with a meat cleaver. Definitely not against other people, but even just being able to handle a weapon counts.

"So where's Val?" He asks. "Shouldn't she be here too?"

"She will be soon," Nora-Raine says. "She's still eating lunch. We didn't go to lunch straight away because it was way too loud, but she says she wanted to eat something because the greasy food will help her hangover. She said I can ask you to ally with us, though so here I am."

And the casual way that Nora-Raine says it makes Leo burst out into laughter. Somehow her ally had gotten so drunk last night that she had a hangover lasting into the afternoon—which was honestly kind of a mood, not that he's ever been drunk before—and Nora-Raine was telling him that as casually as she'd introduced herself. It shouldn't really be funny, but it was.

"What?" The younger girl asks. "Why is that funny?"

"It's not," Leo says. "Not really. It just that she has a hangover and you're so chill about it."

"I don't understand," Nora-Raine frowns. "I thought she was just sick. Is a hangover something bad? Like the viruses that go around when it starts to get colder?"

"Well—no," he starts, surprised that she doesn't know what it is. "It's kinda like getting sick I guess. You get it from drinking too much alcohol," her eyes widen. "Which makes it funny because that means somehow Val got her hands on alcohol here, which she shouldn't be able to do."

"Ohhh," Nora-Raine says. "Okay. I guess that's kind of funny. But I thought that getting drunk was a really bad thing."

Leo shrugs a shoulder. "It can be," he says. "But not always."

"Oh, okay," she murmurs. "Well, do you want to go do something other than this? This is kind of boring."

"What do you want to do?" He asks. He's willing to anything as long as it's useful.

Nora-Raine looks around the room. "We can go practice weapons," she says. "I'm sure Val will join us doing that. The Careers aren't taking all of them over anymore, look."

Sure enough, he only spots four Careers at the weapons station, the Two boy and the One girl nowhere to be seen. The swords have been left free, and he knows that other tributes must be eyeing it up. Everyone wants to try at least once to hold a weapon, surely.

So they hurry over, and it feels so wrong for him to be handing a sword to the small girl. When Val appears, even she seems a little uncomfortable watching Nora-Raine swing at the dummies to the best of her ability.

"She's gonna take someone's eye out," she says.

"You'd think she'd at least wait until the Games, huh?" Leo jokes, smiling slightly. "I'm Leo from Five."

"Val from Six," she says. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," Leo says. "So… a hangover, huh? Where'd you get the alcohol? Any to share?"

* * *

Valentine Niagara (18).  
_District Two Female._

* * *

If Valentine's honest, the Career pack this year is a complete shamble. Rayyan and Athena have been at each other's throats since they first got down to the training centre, Masone hasn't said a word all say, and it's only Valentine, Circe and Hennessey who have been putting in any effort.

The six of them have been spread across the various weapon training stations at Circe's suggestion, but the One pair have been too busy arguing about tradition to do anything. Valentine understands where Athena is coming from; it's annoying for the tradition to have been ruined, but there's nothing that can be done about it now. She doesn't understand why she can't just get over it. They'll be fighting for their lives in a few days and tradition isn't going to give a damn when they're in the thick of the bloodbath.

Careers or not, they can still die. And if this training day is anything to go by, some might be going sooner than others.

As the afternoon starts to draw to a close, Valentine finds herself with Circe and Hennessy, the Four pair making light chit chat as they fiddle around with spears. They know each other well it seems, better than Valentine knows Masone at least, and she tries not to eavesdrop but it's hard when they're right beside her.

She tries to focus on her spear throwing. She's good with range weapons, but it's been a while since she's thrown one of these. It's not as easy as throwing knives but she manages to hit the dummies at least.

"I'm going to go and get a drink," Hennessy announces. "And make sure that Athena and Rayyan haven't killed one another yet."

Circe and Valentine both laugh, and Hennessy waves as he leaves. There's a comfortable silence as Circe grabs a spear.

"So," the other girl says. "How's it going?"

"Good," Valentine says. She focuses on the dummy, draws back her arm and launches the spear forward. "It's nice to be away from home," _away from him. _"You?"

"Same," Circe says. She nods towards the spear embedded in the dummy. "You're good at this."

"Yeah. I'm better at knives though," Valentine shrugs. "They're easier to throw."

"I've been meaning to learn," Circe says. "I wasn't too good at it back at the Academy, so I just focused on other things. I can wield two swords at a time, but God forbid I have to throw a knife."

Valentine looks at the clock. "We've still got an hour left," she says "I could, uh, teach you if you want? Well, we at least make a start on it, I guess. Practice more tomorrow?"

Circe smiles. "That'd be awesome."

They head over to the racks of throwing knives, where Valentine gathers a few, throwing them at the moving dummies in front of her with practiced ease. She can feel Circe watching her, stood just behind her like her father used to when she was a kid, watching like a hawk for any mistake her could punish her for.

The trainers always used to compliment her on how perfect her aim was and how talented she was at throwing knives. But she doesn't know how much of it is based on talent, or how much of it came from the fear that her father instilled into her about missing.

The closet was suffocating at the best of times but especially in the sweltering heat of summer. He'd refuse to give her any water and if she pounded on the door and asked for some, she'd be in there for longer. She used to be scared—more so in the summer because it was so damn _hot_—that one day he'd chuck her in there and she wouldn't ever leave. He'd keep her in there until she died, which didn't necessarily mean for a long time, just because she'd missed the target that one time.

Valentine jumps at the hand Circe places on her shoulder, snapping back to reality. "Hey," the girl says softly. "Are you okay? You're shaking."

"Just—I'm just tired, that's all," Valentine clears her throat. She fine. She's in the Capitol and _he's _back home. "It's been a long day," she hands Circe the two throwing knives she was still holding. "You try."

Circe steps up and whilst her two throws hit the dummies, they're not in any vital areas. It would suck for whatever tribute she hit, but it wouldn't hurt them. Valentine moves behind her.

"Try loosening your grip a little," she says. "It needs to be firm enough that it won't just fly out of your hand but gripping it too hard messes with the release."

"Yeah that makes sense," the Four girl nods, and steps closer to the dummies. "Could I, like, throw it by the handle like they do in all those really dramatic re-enactments of the Hunger Games they do on TV? Is that an actual thing?"

"Mhm," Valentine nods. "But you'd need a handle heavy blade to do that. You have to make sure whatever part is the heaviest is the part that you're throwing first. I'm sure they'll have some somewhere on the racks. They're just not as popular to use. You could slice your hand up pretty badly if you grip it wrong, and if there's someone coming straight towards you, you're not necessarily going to be in the best frame of mind."

"True," Circe says. "I'll probably give that a miss, then. I'm not exactly clumsy but I'm not really sure I trust myself to straight up grip a blade, you know?"

"It took me a while to get the confidence to try and throw them," Valentine shrugs. _Only because trying new things was scary. What if she wasn't as good? What if she missed when he was watching? _"But it might be worth trying at least once. You never know what's going to be in the cornucopia."

"Maybe. But I should probably just focus on actually being able to throw these knives first," she hurls another one at a dummy, the knife hitting the neck.

"Nice one."

"Thanks."

"It's taking Hennessy an awfully long time to get that drink," Valentine notes as she gathers up a few knives and takes a place beside Circe, throwing in time with the other girl.

Circe snorts. "Knowing him he'll be taking a nap under one of the lunch tables or something," she pauses as an alarm sounds, letting them know that the training day is over. "Thanks for this by the way. It was nice to be away from the constant bickering, and to learn something new."

"It was nice to teach you," Valentine says with a small smile as she, Circe and Masone filter into the lift. "I'll see you tomorrow? Hopefully things will have calmed down with the One pair then."

"Hopefully," Circe laughs. "See you tomorrow. Have a good night!"

"You too," she says as the doors to Two's floor slide open and she and Masone step out. "Good night."

* * *

Smith Bunyan (18).  
_District Seven Male._

* * *

Smith just wants to take his plate to his room and eat in silence, but apparently that's not allowed. Their escort looks offended at the mere thought of it, letting out a yelp that makes both Smith and Teak jump when Smith leaves his seat with his plate.

He begrudgingly sits back down, too tired to get into an argument. He'd spent most of his day at the water treating station. Laying low, scoping everybody out. The Careers were an absolute mess this year, something he was grateful for, and there were a few other surprises.

The girl from Ten apparently could, against his earlier judgement at the parade, lift a sword even if she wasn't too great at swinging it and the boy from her district was good at camouflage. The girl from Eight was a surprisingly swift climber, the girl from Five, in the short amount of time she was at the station before the Careers chased her off, learned how to fire a crossbow, and the boy from Eleven was decent with an axe.

Overall, he was up against an interesting bunch. But despite the various skills that he'd observed, none of them really scared him. The Eleven boy might be more of a challenge than he'd initially thought if it came down to it but he's still confident that he could take him.

After all, there have been kids the size of the Eight girl take down tributes they shouldn't have been able to. It just depends on luck and circumstance. If Smith can wait it out, he's sure somebody or something will get to the Eleven boy before he has to.

"Did either of you make any allies?" Limber, Teak's mentor, asks breaking the silence over the meal.

"No," Teak shakes her head. "But I did talk a little bit to the Five girl, Sam. Lunch ended before I could ask her to ally, though, and I didn't want to bother her whilst she was trying to train."

"Sometimes you have to bother people," Paul says. "You should ask her tomorrow."

"I'll try."

"Did you find any allies, Smith?" Paul turns to him. He shakes his head.

"I'm not allying," he huffs, and it's the longest sentence he's said since he was reaped. Paul and Limber both share a glance, and Smith knows what Paul's about to say before he even opens his mouth.

"Going without allies isn't exactly the way you win, Smith," he says and, yep, Smith practically called it. "If you want to get home to your mom—"

"Don't bring her into it," Smith snaps. "Look. I don't need allies. This conversation is over."

An awkward silence settles over the table as Smith spears a slice carrot with his fork, glaring at Paul when the man opens his mouth to speak again.

Allies will make everything harder. What would he be supposed to do if he allied with Teak and it ended up coming down to the two of them? Kill himself or let her kill him just so she could go home? Kill her and be regarded as a monster by his own district? It would be the same for anyone he allied with really; killing an ally was considered one of the worst acts you could do in the Games, at least for outer tributes anyway (a Career killing a Career was usually a good show), and so why would he even bother? Going through all of that just to sacrifice himself at the end of it.

No thank you.

He's going to stick to himself. It'll be a lot more impressive, then, when he takes down the Careers, and a lot more impressive when he returns to Seven having beaten the odds by himself. Not that he really wants the fame, but he'd rather be considered a strong Victor than a weak one. He can't have his mom thinking that he hadn't done the best that he could to get back to her. That he'd waited passively by because he didn't care about her.

"This food is nice," Teak says after a while, trying to lighten the atmosphere a little. He feels kind of bad for dragging the whole mood down with him but, in his defence, it's been a long day and all he wants is to be alone. "Don't you think so, Smith?"

He just shrugs. It's not as good as the food he and his mom make back home, but he supposes it's alright.

As the chatter around the table starts to resume, Smith finds himself withdrawing even more. He can't be bothered with it. He just wants all of this to be over and done with so he can go back home and help his mom.

Once both he and Teak are dismissed, Smith heads straight back to his room. But he hasn't even reached the bed when there's a knock at his door and Teak's voice calls his name. Resisting the urge to just ignore her, Smith pulls open the door.

"Hey," she greets, leaning against the doorframe. "Were you really serious about no allies?" She asks.

He nods.

"Oh, okay," she says. "Well, I was thinking that you could ally with me and maybe with Sam if she wants to, but it's cool if you don't want to, I guess. I can't force you."

_No. You can't. Neither can Paul. _Smith thinks, but he doesn't say anything. Teak waves goodbye and leaves, disappearing into her own bedroom opposite hers.

Smith locks his door this time, vowing not to open it again tonight. He heads into the bathroom where he has the shower at the hottest temperature that he can stand, washing away the stress of the dinner.

God. He just can't wait to go back home. He doesn't know how long if he's going to be able to make it the next few days without being driven crazy by the constant social interaction and pointless advice.

It'll be almost heaven when he's shut away in Victor's Village with only his mom to keep him company. It's been a long time coming.

* * *

Alliances:

(Dysfunctional) Careers: Rayyan (D1M), Athena (D1F), Masone (D2M), Valentine (D2F), Hennessey (D4M) & Circe (D4F).  
D3 pair: Dido & Strada  
D12 pair: Arthur & Bijou  
Musical gals + Leo : Leo (D5M), Val (D6F) & Nora-Raine (D10F).  
Lone Wolves (for now): Sam (D5F), Lex (D6M), Smith (D7M), Teak (D7F), Stitch (D8M), Blue (D8F), Izan (D9M), Milla (D9F), Atkins (D10M), Javier (D11M) & Willow (D11F).

* * *

**Aaaand another chapter! The first day of training is officially done. Exciting!**

**As usual, It's a ridiculous time (almost 2:30AM) when I'm posting this, and I've gotta go to bed. Nothing new, nothing's changed, same old, same old. I hope you've all had a good day and that you sleep well!**

**Don't forget to vote on the poll on my profile for your favourite tributes! Again, nothing's tied to it, I'm just curious!**

**Thank you all for your kind comments, and thank you for the nominations for the SYOT awards. Means a lot!**

**~Nemmie :)**


	13. 12 - Glimpses of the Arena

**12 - Glimpses of the Arena**

* * *

Hydna Dagworth (23)  
Head Gamemaker

* * *

The arena is _finally _ready. Completely put together. The cornucopia stocked, the mutts in their positions. Peering out of the hovercraft window, Hydna observes the fruits of her labour for the very first time.

"It's beautiful," she murmurs, taking in the sights. "They're going to love it."

The Capitolites will, that's for sure. Whether or not those in the districts will is another matter entirely but she supposed that the Hunger Games are supposed to be a punishment; they're not _supposed_ to enjoy it.

All that matters is that it garners her the support of the Capitol. That she's called back next year to be Head Gamemaker and she can prove to everyone just how ready she is to do this.

"Dad," she calls softly as they start to land, beckoning him over to the window that she's pressing herself against. "Look."

She points towards a nest of the mutts he'd helped her create. They would move of course; be out of the way until they needed to be deployed but for right now they were there, and the tributes sleeping in their beds have no idea that their Head Gamemaker is staring at the genetically engineered monsters that would potentially cause their demise.

"They're beautiful, H," her dad says, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "You did a good job with them."

"I couldn't have done it without you, Dad," she smiles. "They're more your creations than mine. You drew them. I just brought them to life."

The hovercraft lands with a small jolt, and the pair of them disembark when it's deemed safe. The winds whip Hydna's hair into her face as she walks forward, the grass crunching underfoot.

"It's nice," her dad comments, gazing out across the grass and the slope down to the beach. "Natural."

"That's what I was going for," she says, moving down towards the sand. She tucks her hair behind her ears, shucking off her shoes to wade ankle deep into the water. "It's so weird to see it all... everything that I've been working on. It's all here."

"Your mom would be proud," her dad says after a stretch of silence, both of them staring forward. "She'd be so, so proud of you, H."

The words bring tears to Hynda's eyes and she looks up to the sky. "I hope so," she says. "I really hope so."

"She'd be proud," he repeats. "She would."

Someone taps her on the shoulder, and she turns to see a familiar looking avox standing with a tray of drinks. The girl offers her one, turning to Scyllis afterwards, and there's a small smile on her face as she does so.

Hydna doesn't think anything of it, instead settling down on the sand for a little bit. A moment of peace before all hell breaks loose in a couple of days.

* * *

**Hey! I haven't updated in forever, I know. This isn't the update I hoped to put out, either, but I didn't want to leave you guys with nothing so here is a little chapter that I hope tides you all over :) **

**I'm hoping that I'll have training day two out soon. Things have been a little weird at the moment, what with no school and this whole coronavirus going on. The only positive thing is that at least I don't have to move for the next while! I've been all over the place lately but finally I can get settled somewhere! This family is stuck with me whether they like it or not lol. I hope that you guys are all okay, and that you enjoyed this tiny little chapter. **

**See you next time, **

**Nemmie :D**


	14. 13 - Places, Places

**Hi guys. This really isn't an update that I wanted to put out. I've tried so hard with this story, trying to get it going again, but I just can't finish it the way that I want to. Please understand that I did really try and I'm not just doing this because I didn't want to finish, or I didn't like the characters. I loved them alot and I wish that I could have finished writing them the way they should have been written. It's just that with my living situation(s) and some personal stuff that has happened behind the scenes, it's hard to find the time and motivation to write and there are some aspects of some characters that I just can't revisit given some recent events in my life. I didn't want to leave everyone hanging, though, because I know that you put time and effort into these tributes. Even though I wasn't able to see them through, I really hope that their portrayals up to this point were true to their characters and that, whilst not everyone is going to be happy with their placements, you understand where I'm coming from with them.**

* * *

Bloodbath:

_24th place:_ Stitch (D8M), blown up by landmines.

— I liked Stitch a lot. He was a character that I enjoyed writing. His dynamic with Blue was something I wanted to explore more, with him being slightly scared but also sort of admiring her, and she not really caring about him. He was a submitted bloodbath, though, and while at one point I had him actually leaving the bloodbath alive, I never had him making it far. Thanks for sending him in, Lupin.

_23rd place: _Smith (D7M), killed by Athena.

— Smith was, believe it or not, another sent in bloodbath. A surprise one, since most people I think were considering him for Victor or final 8 at the minimum. I can't say that I ever felt super connected to Smith, and he was sometimes hard to write, but he was still fun.

_22nd place: _Dido (D3M), killed by Valentine.  
— Dido was great. He was always more concerned with what was going on around him and how other people were feeling. He was still a sent in bloodbath, though, and honestly I didn't have any way for him to make it out alive. Sorry, 20.

_21st place: _Strada (D3F), killed by Valentine.

— Strada was one of the first tributes submitted and one of the first tributes I wrote. I related to her a lot; especially given the situation with her family. I really enjoyed writing her and Dido together, however, and I knew from the moment I wrote them together that they would go out together.

_20th place:_ Willow O'Rouke (D11F), killed by Rayyan.

— Willow was adorable. I really enjoyed her character. She was another sent in bloodbath, however. I wish that I was able to showcase her more because she was genuinely one of my favourite tributes in this fic. With the rule I had about three tributes and one being a bloodbath, though, I couldn't justify her leaving the bloodbath alive without killing off Circe or Lex which just wouldn't have fit.

_19th place: _Nora-Raine (D10F), killed by Circe.

— This was a death that I really didn't want to happen. Nora was fun to write and I really liked her faith as it's an aspect to characters you don't see too often. I knew from the moment I wrote her train ride introduction that she would die in the bloodbath, though. I just couldn't see her going any further. Sorry, TakeTheCrown.

_18th place: _Milla Warthstone (D9F), killed by Javier.

— Milla wasn't sent in as a bloodbath but I knew she'd die there when I accepted her. She'd lost a brother to the Games and that would seriously mess with you going into the bloodbath. So, I had her place here. I just didn't see a way of her leaving alive if I' honest.

_17th place: _Atkins Polliarc (D10M), killed by Masone.

— Pretty much the same reasons as Milla. With his agoraphobia as well, he was never going to make it too far anyway. I had him on the outskirts of the bloodbath for most of the time which is why he's before Milla, since she ran in. I was going to have him ally with Stitch, and since his ally was the first to die it made things alot worse for Atkins. Sorry.

_16th place: _Leo Heavenwind (D6M), killed by Hennessy.

— I feel like I messed up a lot with Leo. Something about the way I portrayed him just never sat quite right to me if I'm honest. And I'm really, really sorry for that. So, I decided to kill him off here. I didn't want to ruin him any further and maybe that's a really selfish reason but my portrayal of him stressed me out to the point that I didn't want to write him anymore. I genuinely feel awful for it, Apple.

_15th place: _Teak Martinez (D7F), killed by Javier.

— Teak was really fun. I liked her alot. But, I wanted a massive bloodbath and unfortunately she had to fall in it. I really wish that I could've written her more. I think I might have switched around her placement.

_14th place: _Bijou (D12F), killed by Athena.

— I think we all knew that this one was going to happen. There was almost no way it couldn't, not with her age and general disposition. She was too pure for the Hunger Games, way too pure, and whilst I saw myself a lot in her I just couldn't find a realistic way to have her survive. I originally planned for her to escape the bloodbath but die on the first night. I know people really loved her, and I did too, but she was never going to win.

_13th place: _Athena (D1F), killed by Arthur.

— I always knew that a Career was going to die in the bloodbath. I don't know, it wasn't something that I saw a lot back when I first started writing this story. Knowing that Bijou was going to die in the bloodbath made this a perfect set up. Arthur was not a small guy, and catching Athena by surprise meant that he was easily able to kill her. Sorry, DefoNotAFangirl.

_12th place: _Sam (D5F), killed by Valentine.

— I love, love, loved Sam. For a while she was actually my victor. But the more that I thought about it, I didn't know what I was going to do with her after the arena, let alone in it. With so many tributes dying in the bloodbath it made it difficult to plot out a lot of things and so many tributes just ended up in here because I didn't know where to take them once their allies and such were wiped out. I'm really sorry, Lupin.

Day 3 

Because there was such a big bloodbath, I wanted a few days with no deaths just so it wasnt too much all at once and the Games weren't super short. So that's why days 1 & 2 were skipped because they were mostly just catching up with everyone. I want to keep this summary fairly short which is why I'm only picking up on the days that people died.

_11th place: _Arthur (D12M), killed by a mutt.

— When I made the decision for Bijou to die in the bloodbath, I knew Arthur would be the first one to go after it. Realistically, it was the only decision that made sense. He was incredibly vulnerable. I really enjoyed writing Arthur, but considering that he was so intertwined with Bijou there wasn't really anywhere else for him to go once she was dead.

_10th place: _Lex (D6M), killed by mutt.

— The rebellious characters were always my some of my favourite and Lex was no different. The little I got to write of him was really fun but once again, I struggled to know what to do with him in the arena and so he fell here. Sorry, Thorne.

Day 4 

_9th place: _Masone (D2M), killed by mutt.

— I'm not going to lie, I found Masone probably the hardest to write out of all of the tributes. I just couldn't really connect with him and it's 100% my fault and nothing to do with his form or anything. So, I knew that he had to be one of the first careers to go.

Day 5 

_8th place: _Blue (D8F), killed by Javier.

— Blue was really fun. I had a few PMs whilst I was gone accusing me of favouritism towards her and the plot with Pup but I can assure you that that plot was simply because it fit. I was already going to have an Avox-tribute plot. I think it was pretty clear that Blue was going to get far but also that she couldn't be Victor given her rebelliousness and the fact she was rigged in. She died before the family interviews, too, something I felt was worth nothing. it wouldve been hard to write her interview since her only family member was an avox.

_7th place: _Izan (D9M), killed by a mutt.

— Izan was also another one I struggled to write. I really liked him and even though we had 2 other tributes with siblings in the Games he still managed to be unique. But he was never a contender for my finale, he was always going to die around this point. Thank you for him, 20.

_6th place: _Hennessy (D4M), killed by Rayyan.

— Hennessy was amazing. He was such a different 4M and his and Circe's dynamic was so funny to write. But as much as I wanted fo, I couldn't really see him going into the finale and so he had to die here. I'm really sorry, 66samvr, but thank you for sending him in.

_5th place: _Rayyan (D1M), killed by Circe.

— When the Careers started to crumble I knew that Circe was going to end up killing whoever killed Hennessy. Which happened to be Rayyan. Sorry, 20. I wasn't really sure what to do with him at this point and since I knew that he wasn't going to be in my final 4 the only thing I really could do was have him die here.

Day 6 

_4th place: _Valencia (D6F), killed by Circe.

— Valencia was another one of my favourite. She was really unique, and I loved her interactions with Nora alot. However, in a finale against Javier and two Career, I knew that she was not going to be able to get out of it alive. Sorry, Lupin, but thanks so much for sending her my way.

_3rd place: _Javier (D11F), killed by Valentine.

— Javier was one of the tributes that I found the hardest to write. It was nothing to do with his form, just that it was hard to get inside of his head. I hope I still did okay with him though. He was my victor for a long, long tone, but the more that I thought about it the more I realised he wouldn't end up being. I had an arc planned but I felt like thw better ending was for him to die at the end of it. Sorry Paradigm but thank you for sending him my way.

_2nd place: _Circe (D4M), killed by a mutt.

— When I finalised the top two I also knew that they wouldn't go down in an epic fight. I had them getting really close in the arena, and even though they are Careers I don't think that either of them would have it in them to kill someone that they regarded as a friend. So, the mutts came in handy. They both walked away from the cornucopia and awaited whatever fate the game makers wanted to give them. Onto Circe herself, I loved her character so much and she was definitely one of my favourites. I just didn't know what to do with her outside of the arena, which is why she ended up coming second. Thank you so much, Thorne. I know that I didn't portray her exactly the way you wanted and I'm sorry for that.

_1st place: _Valentine (D2F)!

— Valentine was an absolutely incredible tribute. I loved every second of writing her and once I had written the train rides she was cemented as my victor. But having her as victor was also something that largely influenced my decision to write this summary. It wasn't the only reason, and I don't want anyone to feel bad or anything, but because of the abuse element in her backstory I couldn't keep writing her faithfully. It wasnt just something I could cut out but there was no way that I was going to reduce her to a bloodbath over it. I'm so sorry, Paradigm, that I couldnt keep going with her. I just hope you liked what I wrote of her and that it doesnt spoil the victory. I really do want to explore her as a mentor, and finally sticking up to her dad, but right now I'm not able to do that and I hope that when I am ready and in the position to hopefully start (and properly finish) another SYOT that you'll stick around to see her, even if you don't submit.


End file.
